The Prank War
by CrazyGirl47
Summary: Now that Voldemort is dead, Harry and company are enjoying their last year of school by taking part in a timehonored Hogwarts tradition: the seventh year prank war. Edited and reposted. First brand new chapter now updated!
1. Prologue

_Special Note, March 6, 2006:_ This story is currently undergoing massive editing. I have taken down most of its chapters to do this. I WILL be putting them back up, slowly but surely. Thank you to all reviewers, and sorry to all those who were upset by my tearing down of the story. I tried to e-mail everyone who sent me a PM, e-mail, or confused review, but I don't think I succeeded. Again, I'm very sorry. Hopefully the story has improved, however. Anyone who has read it before will probably not need to reread it; the basic plot remains the same.

_**The Prank War**_

_Author's Notes:_ This story takes place during seventh year for the trio and will contain spoilers. It does use things from the fifth book, but I for one am sad to see Sirius go and am going to keep him alive. There will probably be a bit of sexual suggestiveness in here, as well as swearing, but most of it's going to be plain old fun.

Several things are different from the books in this story, in addition to Sirius still being alive. (Please, do not ask me for an explanation as to how he escaped the Department of Mysteries. An AU fic where Sirius is alive means, at least in this case, that Sirius never died in my world.) Other differences include that McGonagall is younger, only a year or two older than the Marauders (James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew); both Harry and Ron are prefects; and Voldemort is dead, as are Lucius Malfoy and the majority of the Death Eaters. I'll try and remember to stick a warning in an author's note if I change anything else along the way. _Nothing_ from HBP—any revelations, such as Snape being a half-blood and being evil, etc.—will be used, unless otherwise noted in author's notes.

_Summary:_ Harry and the others are enjoying their last year of school by taking part in one of the most time-honored traditions at Hogwarts: the seventh year prank war. The war with Voldemort may be over, but the war with Malfoy is just beginning… and when Malfoy plays a horrible joke on Hermione, the Gryffindors swear revenge.

_Disclaimer:_ I don't own what I don't own, including but not limited to Harry Potter and its universe.

P.S. The story starts in late October, just a few days before Halloween.

* * *

**Prologue**

Professor McGonagall ended their lesson early and turned to face the Gryffindors, her expression stern. "I am well aware that it is time for seventh year prank war," she said, her voice cold. A few people exchanged guilty glances or mischievous grins, already having pranks in mind. "For years the staff and I have been trying to do away with such nonsense as a prank war between the Houses, but the whole thing amuses the Headmaster greatly. As such, I have a few words of caution."

"McGonagall can't stop us, so she's lecturing us," Ron whispered to Harry and Hermione eagerly. Harry nodded to himself; this seemed just the sort of thing the unconventional Albus Dumbledore would allow that would drive the teachers to the brink of insanity.

"First of all, pranks _are_ punishable, if they are against school rules, damage school property, and/or especially if they are dangerous. Anyone initiating a dangerous prank will be subjected to far worse than detention, am I clear?" Several students nodded. "Second, I highly discourage this activity; performing practical jokes will make you a much bigger target for receiving them, and while dangerous or otherwise harmful pranks can land you in all sorts of trouble, it doesn't mean that you can't be hurt if someone wishes to execute one at your expense. So… be careful." She hesitated, pinching the bridge of her nose beneath her glasses.

"Finally…" She sighed. "Watch your back. We are Gryffindors, and as such we are usually on the receiving end of Slytherin pranks, which are usually very nasty and quite frankly a reason to always be on your guard and hold your tongues. Slytherins can be quite vengeful."

Hermione sighed and Ron and Harry winced; Draco Malfoy was certainly going to use this as an excuse to do his best to torture them.

"Ravenclaws are not to be crossed, either; they are clever, and can create frighteningly elaborate jokes that can leave you in a most uncomfortable position," McGonagall continued. "Hufflepuffs, too, can be tricky—they aren't afraid to work for what they want, they feel a strong sense of loyalty and justice, and they have a determination that baffles many. I remember people talking for years about Amos Diggory's revenge on some Slytherins, and members of the Bones family have caused havoc for hundreds of years. And of course, do not discount your fellow Gryffindors. It is rare that Gryffindors act out of petty revenge, but Gryffindors are quite daring and some will do _anything_ for a laugh. Yes, Mister Weasley, I'm talking about your brothers… and don't smirk, Mister Potter, I nearly strangled your father and his friends for a few of their actions when they were at school here, and your mother was quite an annoyance herself, Head Girl or not." She looked at Hermione as she said the last bit; Hermione fingered her Head Girl badge nervously.

When the bell rang the whole class was talking about their professor's warning. "I wonder what your mum and dad did to McGonagall, Harry," Ron mused as the three of them headed for the Great Hall.

"I'd die to know… McGonagall was a grade ahead of them, and she came back to teach their seventh year, I believe," Harry said. "Or maybe she was two grades older, I can't remember."

"Well, we'll ask Sirius next time we see him. So… what are we going to do to Malfoy?" Ron asked eagerly.

"No idea just yet… maybe we can contact Lupin and Sirius, they'll have some ideas… people say the Marauders were just like Fred and George, maybe worse."

"I'll write to Fred and George, too—they might even send us some stuff from the joke shop at a discounted price…"

"You guys," Hermione said timidly, "maybe we should just leave Malfoy alone."

The two stopped to stare at her in shock. "What!" roared Ron.

"We could get in trouble… I could lose my Head Girl status, and you both could lose your prefect status… think what our parents would say…"

"How can you be chickening out? This is the perfect excuse to really lay into Malfoy!" Harry said, amazed.

The three entered the Great Hall for dinner and sat down, arguing back and forth over their food and pumpkin juice. They didn't even notice Malfoy and his lackeys, Crabbe and Goyle, standing behind them until Malfoy knocked over Hermione's goblet. Harry caught the cup before it could topple to the tablecloth. "Oops," Malfoy snickered, and stalked off.

"That was… lame," Harry said, frowning.

"Snape was staring at him… they're going to talk to him," Hermione told him. "But if that's the only thing he can think of, he's not worth it, you see?"

"He probably had something really nasty in mind, but realized Snape was watching," Ron argued.

Hermione was about to reply when Lavender Brown sat down next to them and raised her goblet. "A toast," she said cheerfully, "to the start of a beautiful war."

They all clinked glasses and drank—even Hermione, who was scowling. "So," Lavender continued, "what are you going to do to the Slytherins? Half the Gryffindors—and probably most of the rest of the school—already have bets on you three getting Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson, everyone's saying that between your little ongoing fight with the Slytherins and your connections to the Weasley twins, you'll kick ass. Don't disappoint us, either, I've got ten Galleons that you guys will have the best prank."

Hermione started to roll her eyes and think up a good lecture about rules, but suddenly she felt incredibly sleepy. "I think I'll go up to bed… been staying up late studying for ages." She couldn't suppress a yawn.

"Want us to come with you?" Harry asked, concerned. Hermione had been fine a few seconds ago.

"No, finish eating, I'm fine."

Hermione got up and left, and Ron and Harry began discussing ideas for the prank war with Lavender, Parvati Patil, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, Neville Longbottom and Ginny Weasley. They were all so intent on their conversation that none of them noticed Professor Snape stumbling sleepily out of the Great Hall.


	2. It Starts

_Special Note, March 6, 2006:_ This story is currently undergoing massive editing. I have taken down most of its chapters to do this. I WILL be putting them back up, slowly but surely. Thank you to all reviewers, and sorry to all those who were upset by my tearing down of the story. I tried to e-mail everyone who sent me a PM, e-mail, or confused review, but I don't think I succeeded. Again, I'm very sorry. Hopefully the story has improved, however. Anyone who has read it before will probably _not_ need to reread it; the basic plot remains the same.

**Chapter One**

_It Starts_

Hermione Granger was having a very strange dream; for some reason, she had broken up with Ron and was lying in bed with Oliver Wood, and neither of them was wearing anything above the waist. She placed her arm across his chest and put her leg around both of his, smiling as she nestled closer, her head resting on one of his arms, both of which were above him with the fingers laced together beneath his head.

Snape, meanwhile, was coming out of his dreams and slowly entering a lighter stage of sleep. As consciousness came closer, he felt what was unmistakably a girl curling around him. Instinctively he put his arm around her, but her hair was tickling his arm, pulling him from oblivion faster.

"Oliver," he heard a voice utter, and his eyes flew open with a start.

He was at first angrily wondering why his girlfriend was calling him "Oliver." It took him a moment to regain his senses and realize that he hadn't had a girlfriend for quite some time.

At which point, he looked down at the girl cradled in his arms and screamed.

Hermione's eyes flew open at the terrified yell. She was not half-clothed in Oliver's arms after a Quidditch game. She was fully naked and cuddling her least favorite professor.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!" she screamed in his face.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!" Snape agreed.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Hermione shrieked, clutching the comforter around herself.

"What are _you_ doing here?" he bellowed back. She belatedly realized three things—one, she couldn't remember a thing about the previous night past leaving dinner early; two, she was in Snape's private chambers, a place she didn't even know how to get to; and three, he was fully naked as well. The same terrible thought seemed to strike the both of them at the same time; they stared at each other for a full minute with similar horrified expressions. Snape broke the silence. "No," he muttered, "I wasn't drinking last night…." He climbed off the four-poster bed while clutching his sheet around his waist and dashed over to a cabinet in the corner, looking wild and panicky. Hermione glimpsed dozens of bottles of alcohol, mostly liquor like vodka and gin, before looking away from the cupboard as he mumbled to himself, taking stock of each individual bottle as though they were ingredients for potions.

"This is a nightmare. A really bad one," Hermione chanted, trying to convince herself. "Worse than when I dreamed Voldemort murdered Harry and the Weasleys and my parents. Worse than when I dreamed I married Malfoy."

"You dreamed _what?_" Snape exclaimed in spite of himself, but Hermione wasn't listening. She pinched herself, hard, and yelped.

"Oh, shit…"

"Watch your m—oh, gods, I know I didn't drink all this! … No, wait, with Minerva before term started… Shit! I only had pumpkin juice, damn it; I haven't—"

"Pumpkin juice!" Hermione yelled suddenly, making Snape jump and almost drop the large, nearly empty bottle of wine. "Pumpkin juice… Malfoy… yes, that's it! Of course!"

"What are you babbling about?" Snape snarled, annoyed at having found his liquor cabinet as full of alcohol as it had been yesterday.

"Professor, Malfoy did this!"

"What?"

"Malfoy knocked over my goblet at dinner, and after I drank it I felt really sleepy! And then he went and talked to you!"

"And I felt extremely exhausted and retired earlier than I have in years." Snape slapped his forehead, realization dawning.

"He put a sleeping potion in our drink and then somehow got us both here… the prank war. That little… I'm going to get him, I don't care if I lose Head Girl status, and I don't care if I get the whole of Gryffindor expelled!"

Snape's wand lay on the bedside table, and she grabbed it, looking as though she was ready to storm off to the Slytherin dormitory and curse Malfoy into next Tuesday immediately. _"Accio robes!" _she shouted.

No robes came flying at her. _"ACCIO ROBES!" _she fairly screamed, looking panicked. _"Accio clothes! Accio robes! _Damn it! _Accio pants! Accio robe! ACCIO ANYTHING!"_

A book flew at her and hit her between the eyes. "Anything but that," she groaned, rubbing her head.

Snape stared at her for a second, mortified. Then he dove for his wand and snatched it from her. _"Accio—" _he began, but Hermione stopped him.

"It's no good, Professor. Malfoy stranded me here and took my robes and wand so it wouldn't be easy to get back to the common room."

"Well, you can't go wandering around in my blankets," Snape said listlessly. The shock was getting to be a little too much. What would Albus or Minerva say if they found a naked Gryffindor Head Girl in his chambers? Even if he convinced them that it was a Slytherin prank, he'd never live it down… Minerva would have a field day with this one…

"Tequila," he muttered, and headed back to his cabinet, tying the sheet around his waist securely as he went. "I know I have a bottle of tequila in here…"

"Wait, just transfigure something into a robe and then I can wear it back to the common room!" Hermione said triumphantly.

"Good idea, save I can't transfigure worth a damn… like Flitwick can't brew a complex potion to save his life and Vector doesn't know a thing about Herbology. Where's my shot glass?" Unable to find it, he gave up and took a huge swig from the bottle, then gagged a little.

"Couldn't I just wear one of your robes?" Hermione asked in a small voice.

"I suppose you _could,_ if I wanted to get fired and you wanted the whole of Hogwarts to see you in a professor's clothing… with a Head of House badge that says 'Slytherin' on it," Snape replied conversationally. He held the bottle out to her. "Tequila?"

"You should get drunk before classes, it makes you much more civil," Hermione muttered irritably. She felt trapped and restless, and she certainly didn't like the fact that she was sitting in her least favorite professor's bed with only a comforter for cover, but she didn't necessarily want to stand up and walk around his bedroom wearing a blanket either. And as if things weren't surreal enough, Snape was simply standing there, chugging down a bottle of rather strong tequila like a wino, getting drunk as fast as his gag reflex would allow. Annoyed, she climbed off the bed and carefully wrapped the comforter around her. One never got the best results with another wizard's wand, and she sucked at transfiguration with Harry or Ginny's wand, so she definitely wasn't going to be able to do much with Snape's wand, accustomed as she was to her own. Hoping Malfoy hadn't damaged her wand and that she would find it soon, she gathered up her courage and marched over to Snape's wardrobe.

* * *

"Harry! Ron! Have you seen Hermione?" Ginny called worriedly as she came into the Gryffindor common room. Few people were left in the dormitories; the majority of the older students had gone to Hogsmeade for the day and most the younger were having fun wandering around the castle or enjoying the early autumn weather outside, but Harry and Ron were sitting at a table, engaged in a game of wizard chess as they waited for Hermione to show up before they left for Hogsmeade.

"No, why?" Harry asked, wincing as Ron's bishop pummeled his knight.

"She's not in her room, and Parvati said she wasn't in the dorms when they came back from dinner."

Ron frowned. "She must've missed her—Hermione was really tired last night, remember?"

"Yeah, but her clothes and wand are on her bed, and she's gone. She was supposed to meet Lavender two hours ago to study potions, but she never showed. Lavender and Parvati are already starting rumors—you don't think something's happened to her, do you?"

"Nah," Harry said, trying to sound convincing, though he knew perfectly well that Hermione, like the rest of them, never left her bed without her wand, even now that Voldemort was gone. "Hermione's not exactly easy to get the drop on."

"Maybe not if she had her wand, no," Ginny argued. She sighed and collapsed in an armchair. "I can't think of where she'd be—nowhere Parvati and Lavender have dreamed up, but still."

"What are they saying?" Ron demanded.

"Oh, the usual bull," Ginny said in disgust. "Their best story is that she's cheating on you and the whole sleepy thing at dinner was a lie so she could sneak off to some guy's room or something."

Harry rolled his eyes. "They've been coming up with those stupid stories ever since that time everyone swore she was with Fred, remember that?"

Ginny giggled. "Yeah, who doesn't?" Fred had once found Hermione asleep on her books in the common room and carried her up to her bed; Lavender and Parvati had woken up before he left and next morning told everyone that Fred and Hermione were sleeping together. Fred, ever one for a good laugh, told everyone it was true. Lavender and Parvati were quite disappointed when they'd realized they'd been wrong all along, and blamed Hermione for it; they were always started some odd rumor or another about Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Ginny frowned. "But still… with the prank war… what if something's happened to her?"

"Don't worry, I'm sure—" Harry stopped as the portrait hole swung open and Hermione stumbled in.

It took her a moment to get back to her feet. She was swaying unsteadily, and was wearing robes several sizes too big, making movement difficult. "I've got a great idea for the prank war," Hermione slurred, then hiccupped. "We'll all practice doing the Unforgivable curses, and then use them to kill the Slytherins. Sound good?"

The three of them blinked. "Um… are you okay?" Ginny asked, concerned.

"I'm fine," Hermione said, waving her arm dismissively. Then she promptly toppled over.

Harry, Ron, and Ginny ran over and crowded around her as she giggled hysterically. Her eyes were a bit glazed and her friends could detect the strong smell of vodka. "She's drunk," Ron said in disbelief. "Trashed, I tell you! _Hermione Granger, Head Girl of Hogwarts, is trashed!_"

"After the night I had, I deserve to be," Hermione said defensively, pouting.

"What happened?" Ginny asked as Harry and Ron hauled Hermione over to the couch.

Before she could answer, Harry said, "Um, Hermione? What are you wearing?"

He'd noticed the Head of House crest on the robes, which was much like McGonagall's or Sprout's, only this one said "Slytherin" instead of "Gryffindor" or "Hufflepuff."

"Snape's robe," Hermione said. As their eyes widened in disbelief, she chuckled and quickly told them the whole story, her humor fading after about the third sentence.

"And then," she finished, "Snape let me borrow this thing, which is gross enough without the fact that I don't have any underwear, and by that time he was so smashed he let me fix myself a few glasses of vodka and butterbeer."

"How many is a few?" Harry asked suspiciously.

Hermione began counting on her fingers. When she reached ten she stopped, presented her hands with all her fingers spread, and said, "Three, of course, not more than three."

"Hermione!" Ron exclaimed in exasperation.

"Give her a break, she woke up naked next to Snape," Ginny said, shuddering. "And I thought the Chamber of Secrets was bad."

Hermione nodded. "Though he's not bad to talk to when he's drunk, did you know that? We discussed the theory on a few potions, but neither of us could remember the exact potions very well—"

"Only Hermione could find herself sleeping nude next to a naked Snape and somehow start talking about homework," Ron muttered.

"—and then he told me about how he had a crush on Harry's mother when they were at Hogwarts and that's why he turned spy, because the Potters got dead…"

"EW!" Harry exclaimed. "He liked my mother!"

Hermione nodded. "But that's okay. Because we have to kill _all_ the Slytherins, so I suppose we have to kill Snape, and that means you won't ever have to think about it again. And I can burn his robe when he's dead, even if it was awfully nice of him to lend it to me. Hmm… Snape's a bit of a pod person when drunk."

"You're not making sense, Herm," Ginny said gently. "C'mon, let's go fix you up. And get you out of sight before someone else sees."

"Wait, get her stuff and take her to our dormitory," Harry said. "If Seamus, Dean or Neville come in, they'll keep it quiet. None of the girls will."

"True," Ginny agreed, and they set about getting Hermione to the boys' room to wait until she sobered up.

"What are we going to do?" Ron asked, as he and Harry staggered up the stairs, each with one of Hermione's arms around their shoulders while Ginny followed with Hermione's clothes and wand.

"About what?" Harry said.

"The Slytherins, duh," Ginny said, rolling her eyes.

"I don't know, but whatever it is, it's gonna be big," Harry replied, narrowing his eyes.

"And probably illegal," Hermione added dramatically, and hiccupped again. She pointed her finger like a wand, muttering "Avada Kebavra! Avada Cadabra!"


	3. Unusual Allies

_Special Note, March 6, 2006:_ This story is currently undergoing massive editing. I have taken down most of its chapters to do this. I WILL be putting them back up, slowly but surely. Thank you to all reviewers, and sorry to all those who were upset by my tearing down of the story. I tried to e-mail everyone who sent me a PM, e-mail, or confused review, but I don't think I succeeded. Again, I'm very sorry. Hopefully the story has improved, however. Anyone who has read it before will probably not need to reread it; the basic plot remains the same.

_Author's Notes:_ I don't think I mentioned this in my previous notes, but Hermione and Ron are a couple for the moment, though this story will end up being a Draco/Hermione romance.

**Chapter Two**

_Unusual Allies_

Snape was drunk. Very, _very_ drunk.

This was not… not _cool_. He'd woken up next to a student, the damned Head Girl—from Gryffindor!—and that was bad enough without her being Potter's best friend and one of his least favorite people. Then it turned out she was actually good to talk to when he was too drunk to care that it was Hermione Granger he was talking to. And he'd ended up having a thought or two that wasn't right on so many levels as she lay in his bed or sat in his armchair in his robes. He couldn't remember having a morning half as strange.

_Malfoy needs to die… Malfoy needs to die… _He was chanting it, he realized, to the tune of "The Farmer in the Dell." _Hi, ho, the dairy-o, Malfoy needs to diiiiiiiie!_

Snape found himself bursting into the Slytherin common room. It was early, but Malfoy was awake and sitting by the fire—Malfoy hadn't slept well since his father's death last year, during the final battle with Voldemort. Malfoy stared up at his professor, startled, worried and completely confused.

Snape pointed his empty tequila bottle at Malfoy like a sword. Malfoy began reaching for his wand carefully, looking scared—terrified, really, but then it wasn't every day a powerful wizard and ex-Death Eater ran into the room wearing nothing but a sheet around his waist and brandishing an alcohol bottle at you.

Snape caught himself before yelling the Killing Curse when he realized he wasn't holding his wand. Instead, he started shouting at Malfoy like… well, like the drunken madman he was.

"It's none of your business if I slept with her! None! And I didn't, honest! Granger and I are… are… just _friends!"_

The look on Malfoy's face made even the intoxicated and enraged Snape laugh.

* * *

Although Hermione had used secret passages all the way back to Gryffindor tower, and although no one had seen her save Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Neville (who came into the dormitory and nearly fell over in shock when presented with evidence that Hermione would get drunk), Malfoy had told every Slytherin about the prank. Parvati and Lavender had gotten their hands on the information too, but Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione had all agreed that Ginny and Hermione would tell them the whole story was a ruse, invented to cover up the fact that Hermione was, indeed, cheating on Ron (which neither Ron nor Hermione were pleased about, but it was better than the truth). The tale didn't go any further than the Slytherins; most of the students in other houses either didn't hear it, or didn't believe it.

The first potions class after Hermione had woken up next to Snape, however, set Harry, Ron, and Hermione to thinking. The moment Snape walked in, he glared around at the class before speaking.

"I realize that, as seventh years, you will be engaging in the prank war. I am also fully aware that, as a teacher, I am only permitted to punish you with detentions and the removal of House points. But know this—" he glared directly at Malfoy— _"I will not be toyed with._ Anyone who makes the mistake of trying to get the drop on me will face _revenge,_ not punishment. You will be severely dealt with, the old-fashioned way, and my job be damned."

Snape was now avoiding Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny like the plague, knowing full well that anything in Hermione's life was always shared with Ron and Harry and usually with Ginny. The four of them enjoyed an increase in their grades; Snape was even grading fairly, trying to make sure none of them had a reason for Hermione to report the event to any of his fellow staff members. He was also downright hateful towards Malfoy, who obviously hadn't budgeted for his teacher figuring out who had set the whole thing up and was thoroughly unhappy. It did, however, reveal to Malfoy the fact that his plan had worked, and he kept catching the Gryffindors in the hallway and muttering things like, "Did you and Professor Snape have _fun,_ Granger? Did he _teach_ you anything new?"

Hermione had found a new hatred of Malfoy; she'd read a book on dream recall, and had deduced from the dream about her and Oliver that she and Snape had not, originally, been lying side by side. She was also quite ashamed of the fact that she'd gotten drunk, especially since Neville was still giving her funny, amazed looks, and she was worried about Snape's robe; she hadn't given it back, and Lavender and Parvati had a tendency to snoop through her trunk looking for clothes to borrow or things to tease her about. She still couldn't think of a way to get back at Malfoy, and eventually decided to see if maybe, just maybe, Professor Snape would be an ally in the prank war.

After the second potions class after the prank, nine days since she'd woken up in his bed and two days after Halloween, Hermione gathered up her courage approached Snape's desk with a plastic bag. "Professor?"

"What, Miss Granger," Snape said, his sallow skin tinged pink at the cheeks.

"Er… your robe," she said, whispering even though no one was around. "I've been meaning to give it back. Th… Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome, Miss Granger," Snape said stiffly. Suddenly, he burst out laughing, loud guffaws that sounded downright bizarre coming from him; Hermione couldn't ever remember him genuinely smiling (at least, not about something other than Harry, Ron, or Hermione getting in trouble), let alone laughing.

She couldn't help but grin. "It _was_ funny, wasn't it? Looking back," she said sheepishly.

"I've never been so mortified in my entire life," Snape laughed. "Know what I did after you left? I got even more drunk, barged into the Slytherin common room, and started yelling at Draco, telling him that I didn't sleep with you and it was no one's business if I did or something; I can't fully remember." He shook his head, chuckling.

"I stumbled back to the common room and drunkenly explained to Harry, Ron and Ginny that we had to kill every Slytherin. Then they hid me in Harry and Ron's room and Neville came in and found me. He nearly died of shock. And you should've seen the look on Harry and Ron's face when they saw me in your robe. Ginny had told them I'd 'left' my clothes and wand on my bed."

"So Draco didn't destroy your stuff? Well, that's something."

She nodded, but she frowned. "The thing is… how did he get into the common room? He'd need the password, you know… and it's usually not related to anything to do with Gryffindor or whatever, we make them hard to figure out by an outsider, especially what with the prank war."

Snape blinked. "He didn't have to take you from the dormitory. Probably a bad idea, considering he'd have to get you all the way down here—how could he do that if you weren't wearing your clothes?" She was a bit startled to note that he wasn't blushing or being his usual standoffish self, but rather talking about things in a thoughtful and calm manner, almost like a friend trying to help her figure out why so-and-so had asked her out. For some reason, he reminded her strongly of Sirius.

"Even if he _did_ wait until I was in your room to take my clothes—which is possible, I can't remember a thing about that night except for leaving dinner—he managed to get my robes and wand on my bed."

"Perhaps he had a Gryffindor accomplice. Not likely, I grant you, but it has been known to happen in the past. I don't suppose it really matters, does it? He was probably playing 'no harm, no foul.' If he'd destroyed your belongings or they were found in his possession, he could've been in serious trouble. The destruction of another's wand is a serious offense in the wizarding world. Now we can't even prove it was him."

"Oh, it matters how he did it. For one thing, if he could get into my dorm—and your room, too, mind—then he could do it again, and even though we were mostly all at dinner, how precisely did four Slytherins get past the Fat Lady? She's bound by the password, but I think she might've said something to someone about it. He's got some way of sneaking around no one knows about, and if he does, we're in it deep. I don't really think he would be stupid enough to risk barging into Gryffindor Tower like he owned the place—there's rarely a time when the whole House goes down to dinner at the same time, you know."

"'For one thing?' Meaning that for another, if you caught him in your room, you could have a field day with him. And four Slytherins? Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle make three."

She smiled. "The thought of catching him had crossed my mind. But I don't think it was one of them who went up to my room. I'm assuming it was Pansy Parkinson."

He nodded. "Boys aren't allowed in girls' rooms. But… how _did_ you discover that?" Snape smiled at her and lifted an eyebrow.

_Talk about surreal. Snape is actually teasing me!_ "Er, I read it in _Hogwarts: A History,"_ she said, though her voice sounded a little squeaky.

_"Sure,_ Miss Granger, sure." He smiled as her face burned bright red.

"It's true!"

"And Mr. Weasley has never tried to break into your room?"  
"No," she insisted. She paused. "He and Harry tried to tell me about something Umbridge had made a rule about back in fifth year. And Ron went flailing down the stone slide."

"Well, Draco may or may not have enlisted Miss Parkinson. He may have found a way."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, but it would've just been a lot of work for him, and Malfoy likes to take the easy road. Fred and George Weasley and Lee Jordan had some sort of spell that let them into the girls' dorms whenever they pleased, but I think it's really complex. I haven't been able to even find it myself." She winced inwardly; she hadn't meant to mention that she'd been looking for just such a spell. Any hope that Snape hadn't picked up on it went out the window when he grinned at her teasingly.

"You _can_ get a broomstick and fly right over those trick stairs, you know," he said lightly.

"You can?" Hermione said, sounding way too eager to know such a thing even to her own ears. Snape gave her another grin. She planted her hands on her hips defiantly. "And how, exactly, would _you_ know about that, _sir_?"

He raised his hands in mock-surrender. "Touché, Miss Granger, touché."

She tried not to let her jaw drop open at the thought that Snape had flown up a few girls' dormitory staircases in his day. "Anyway, I want to know how Malfoy got in. From what I can tell, he probably wouldn't have used a spell to carry me."

"He's terrible at those; I've seen him practicing quite a few things in the common room," Snape agreed. "But he could have carried you himself, he's strong enough."

"Could have, maybe. Would have? Never. Draco Malfoy? Do his own dirty work? Touch a 'Mudblood?'" She scowled fiercely. "Yeah, right. He would have gotten someone else to do it, he'd never do it himself—then, not only would he avoid breaking a sweat, he could blame it on someone else if he was caught, which means he would have brought Crabbe and Goyle, maybe even just one of them. And even one of them would have a hard time squeezing under an invisibility cloak with Malfoy. They're both huge; I doubt even one of them would fit, and Malfoy's not exactly a small guy. So either Malfoy went to my bedroom alone after dropping me off, or he took Pansy Parkinson or she went alone, or they found a different way besides invisibility cloaks."

Snape nodded. "Polyjuice Potion, maybe?"

"Are you missing any boomslang skin?" Hermione asked innocently.

He gave her a dirty look, but he didn't seem truly angry. "You know it and I know it, professor, but you can't prove it," she said boldly.

"True," he replied, and shrugged, rolling his eyes. "No, my private stores are fine, but my cabinet is not the _only_ place to pick up boomslang skin."

"Just the most convenient," she joked.

"Apparently." He shook his head and mock-glared at her for a moment, then smiled slightly. "I don't think Draco will try the same stunt again, though. He's been talking about it so much someone would probably turn him in for suspicion if it happened again. Besides, it was based on shock value; the prank would lose its humor if we weren't affected by it. And we'll both be watching Draco more closely now."

"Yes, but he's gonna be moving again soon. And if he can't figure out if he needs to get me the most, or you, or the others, then what? He'll opt for getting us all."

"Then we'd better get him first. Good lord, that was nine days ago. Haven't you moved yet? We've got to act."

"We?" she repeated hopefully.

"I owe him one," he said calmly. Then he grinned again. "Besides, if he realizes we're acting together, what I said to him that day will be all the more confusing."

"What exactly _did_ you say?" she said slowly, suspicious.

"Er… something about I didn't sleep with you, _honest_," he emphasized the word ruefully, and Hermione's eyes widened with all the meanings one could pick up from that statement, "and that we were just, um, friends."

_"Just friends?" _she repeated incredulously. If she and Snape had ever been remotely close to being friends—at least, before now—she was Malfoy's wife. Oh, great—what must be running through Malfoy's head…

"Oh, shut up, I was drunk. Now, are we going to kick Draco Malfoy's sorry ass or what?"

He sounded so much like a teenager that Hermione couldn't help responding to him like a peer. "Yes, we most certainly are. A Slytherin ass-kicking is well past due."


	4. A Plan for Revenge

_Author's Notes:_ I'd like to point out, as I'm currently still reposting this fic, that I'm not doing it for extra reviews. While I love reviews—who doesn't?—I feel no need to play games to drive them up. I've got more than enough reviews—in fact, I had more than enough over three thousand reviews ago—and I'm not greedy for more. There's no point in trying to drive them up, anyway; if you don't _earn_ them, they're pointless. I'm reposting this fic because I want to get all of my files straight, so that what's online matches what's on my computer, and I was tired of having a sub-par fic posted. So I'm trying to make it better—not perfect, as I don't think that'll happen, but better. I apologize if this made some of you think I was a review whore, cuz I'm not. I'm honored by my reviewers, and I'm thankful for each and every one of them, but I'm not looking for ways to drag in more.

* * *

**Chapter Three**

_A Plan for Revenge_

"You did _what_?"

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were sitting alone together in the Great Hall, discussing their plans for the prank war; the other Gryffindors were keeping their distance, knowing fully well what the four of them were up to. The whole of Gryffindor house was waiting eagerly for Harry, Ron, and Hermione to make their move, and no one wanted to disturb the crucial planning process. The Gryffindors were currently dying with curiosity; Hermione had just told the other three about the morning's events, and that had meant a lot of shocked yells and laughter. So everyone was watching them avidly, but everyone held back and left them alone.

"I made an alliance with Snape," Hermione repeated calmly, in response to the horrified stares the other three were giving her. "He seemed happy to help. He has some ideas about wards to keep Malfoy out of our rooms... and there was a slight incident after I ended up in his rooms. If Malfoy figures out that Snape is helping me, it's going to confuse the hell out of him."

"What slight incident?" Ron demanded.

Hermione told them about Snape barging drunkenly into the common room and confronting Malfoy. "Oh, my god," Harry said, looking a bit green.

"Malfoy probably thinks you had sex!" Ginny exclaimed, apparently thinking the whole thing was hysterical. Harry, Ron, and Hermione shushed her and glanced around, but no one seemed to have heard and Ginny went on. "That's why he keeps saying 'did you have fun' and stuff, because he thinks you two woke up next to each other and—"

"GINNY, SHUT _UP!"_ Ron and Harry, who'd clamped their hands over their ears, yelled so loudly that most of the students and teachers in the Great Hall turned to look at them. Hermione herself was wincing, looking nauseous. "I soooooo don't want that image in my head," Harry moaned apologetically to Ginny.

Ginny nodded, her expression disgusted now, too. "So what's our plan of action?" she said, trying to look innocent so that no one came over to interrupt.

"We're empty-handed right now," Ron said with a sigh. "There's the standard stuff, though—putting Bulbadox Powder or ants in his clothes, dying his hair pink or whatever color, that sort of thing. It's just not _good_ enough for Malfoy, though."

"Well, it'll have to do, for now," Harry said, taking charge. "Meanwhile, we're going to be planning something big, but it would look strange if we weren't retaliating in any other way."

"Fight a few skirmishes while we plan the major battle of the war," Hermione agreed, nodding. "Not only that, but it'll make him think we suck at pranks, get him to drop his guard."

Harry nodded. "Okay. Second, we're out of ideas. Right after dinner, I'll write Sirius and Lupin. Ron, get word to Fred and George. Hermione… I never thought I'd say this, but see exactly how Snape wants to help, outline a few of the more major pranks he has in detail. Ginny, think you can handle the powder, ants and color spells?"

"Yep," Ginny said, her eyes glinting evilly.

"All right… and while you're working on that, make a list of people we could get to help us, and it what ways; you know more people than we do." Ginny nodded. "Now, on the count of three, everyone look over at Malfoy, hold for a few seconds after he sees us, and then start laughing," Harry instructed.

"Why?" Hermione asked.

"What better way to freak him out?" Harry said slyly. "One, two—three!"

They turned as one to look at Malfoy, staring at him with mischievous grins that could have scared Voldemort himself. Malfoy swallowed and fidgeted nervously as they turned back around and cracked up.

"This is great!" Ginny laughed. "If an old trick like this weirds him out, just imagine if he saw Hermione talking to Snape!"

"That's _perfect!"_ Harry shouted suddenly.

"What is?" the others demanded.

"What if… and I know this is a very creepy, sickening idea but… what if Hermione and Snape were not only working together to plot against Malfoy, but were a lot more than 'just friends,' as Snape put it?"  
"WHAT?" Hermione fairly screamed, leaping to her feet. Everyone in the Great Hall turned to stare at them once again. "If you think I would do something like—!"

"Herm, sit down!" Ginny hissed, pulling her back to the bench.

"That came out wrong," Harry said hurriedly, cringing. "I meant what if we make Malfoy _think _you're more than friends?"

Hermione calmed down, taking several deep breaths as she considered it. "Hmm. That's interesting."

"Think of it," Harry went on eagerly. "You and Snape could stage a few scenes, and let Malfoy catch you!"

"Stage how?" Ron demanded.

"You know—when they know Malfoy's eavesdropping, start talking as if they're… well…"

"Having sex?" Ginny supplied. Harry blushed and nodded. "You mean Hermione and Snape, moaning and saying 'ooh, baby!' where Malfoy can hear them?"

"Eh… something like that," Harry said, now looking a tad more awkward.

Hermione grimaced, but Ginny and even Ron instantly warmed to the idea and Hermione had to admit it was a good one. "How would we get Snape to agree to it?" Hermione asked.

"Well, we'd just have to ask and hope for the best," Harry said uncomfortably.

"You mean _I_ would have to ask," Hermione said dryly. "Hmm… I'll be right back."

Ignoring her three gaping friends, Hermione got up and marched right up to the head table, stopping in front of Snape. "Professor?" she said innocently.

Snape looked up at her in surprise, and then forced himself to scowl the way he always had before while in the presence of Gryffindors. "What?" he asked sharply.

"I was wondering if I could speak to you about something… it's very _important,"_ she said, willing him to understand.

He did, though he gave no outward sign. "Come to my office after dinner," he growled. "Now go away before I lose my appetite."

Hermione grinned cheekily at him before practically skipping back to her seat. "You asked him in front of the entire staff table!" Ron hissed.

"No! Of course not. I told him I wanted to talk to him. I'm going to go to his office after dinner."

"Take Ginny with you," Harry suggested. "It'll look too weird if Ron or I go."

"Yeah, I'll keep a lookout so Malfoy doesn't overhear the plot," Ginny said. "Although… hey, I've got an idea!"

* * *

Minerva McGonagall gaped at Severus Snape as Hermione left, unable to believe what she'd seen. "Severus? Would you care to explain?"

"Explain what?" Snape snapped, shoving another bite of food into his mouth.

"Oh, please! I've known you since you were eleven years old! You're up to something!"

"What makes you say that?" he asked, feigning shock.

"Come off it, Severus, tell me." Snape didn't say a word. "Hmm, let me guess… what could it be? You acting all chummy with one of your three least favorite Gryffindors—"

"'Acting chummy?' _Excuse_ me?"

"Oh, please, Severus. I _know_ you. That flame of hatred got a bucket of water tossed on it, but why? Wait! Don't tell me you're getting involved in the prank war?"

"Afraid so, Minerva," he said, sighing, knowing she would drag it out of him eventually. "Just like old times, hmm?" Though he and Minerva could be bitter rivals at times, they were still very close friends—and their friendship had been cemented in his seventh year at Hogwarts, when he and Minerva had bonded together to exact revenge on James Potter and Sirius Black through the prank war.

"What are you planning?" Minerva asked eagerly. "Anything like our old tricks?"

"Perhaps," Snape said thoughtfully. "All sorts of things. And apparently Granger and Potter have their own ideas, too, if Granger wants to talk to me."

"Be careful," Minerva told him. "You could end up a target—especially since you'll be going against your own house, won't you?"

"They started it," Snape said with a distant smile.

"Severus… forgive me, but you're smiling three seconds after mentioning your two least favorite students. Was there something in your food, or are you having a midlife crisis?"

"Ha, ha," Snape told her with a mock-glare. Then he grew serious. "The Dark Lord is dead, Minerva, and now I can finally—I don't know, _live_. So I'm going to. For the first time in a long time, I plan on having a little _fun."

* * *

_

Draco Malfoy had never felt so tense. He'd seen his four worst enemies plotting in the Great Hall, and from the shouts and the laughing and the innocent looks they were trying to assume, whatever they were going to do was going to be big—and what was with _Granger_ going to talk to _Snape?_ Draco had seen them avoiding each other like mad—weren't they angry at each other, or at least embarrassed, after the stunt Draco had pulled? He watched as Granger and Ginny Weasley broke away from Potter and Ron and the girls now stood at the dungeon entrance. Oh, great. Were the girls going to try to follow him and curse him? No, that would be something Potter and his Weasel lackey would do. Unless they were trying to be inconspicuous?

Draco turned away from them, tapped his ear with his wand, and whispered a spell. Instantly his hearing magnified. The spell took practice to be able to distinguish anything from the enormous throng of noise, especially in a crowd, but listening in on years of meetings with Voldemort's inner circle and his parents' arguments and discussions allowed Draco to comprehend the rush of sound nearly as naturally as regular hearing. "Just don't tell Harry about this, okay?" Granger whispered to Weasley as they turned and went down the stairs, Draco following cautiously, able to hear everything the two girls said.

"Don't tell _Harry_? What about _Ron_? You know—your _boyfriend_?"

"I'm _going_ to tell Ron. I just… I have to break it to him gently."

"Herm, there is no way to gently say 'I fancy Professor Snape and I'm cheating on you.' It's a scientific impossibility."

Draco nearly tripped and went flying down the stairs. Granger fancied Snape? How… When… _WHAT!_

"You know I didn't mean to cheat on Ron, Gin. We were so upset and we got so drunk, we were… you know… before we realized what we were doing."

_Drunk? We?_ Draco thought in awe. _What the hell? _He knew Snape had gotten trashed—but Granger? Little Miss Goody-Two-Shoes?

"But the fact remains you're going to dump him. Dump Ron. For _Snape,"_ Ginny said, shuddering.

"Ginny, I'm not going to _date_ Snape! I just—I can't keep seeing Ron when I'm so attracted to Snape, it's not right."

"Ew," Ginny muttered. "That's all I have to say—ew."

Hermione smiled. "I know it's weird for you, but if you could have been there—"

"Do NOT finish that sentence." Ginny shuddered. "Excuse me for a second, Herm. I have to go vomit now."

"Ha, ha."

"I have to go vomit now, too," Draco mumbled. He realized with a start that the girls were headed for Snape's private office. _Oh, sick!_

"Ginny, wait outside, okay?" Hermione said.

Draco heard a door opening and closing. Ginny sighed and murmured "God, how could she do this _twice?_ And this time she's _sober!"_

"Hello, Professor," Hermione purred inside Snape's office. _"Silencio!"_ she yelled, and Draco cursed, now unable to hear anything inside the room.

He'd heard enough, though. It would take a while, but if he kept tailing Granger and Snape, he would soon have enough blackmail material for anything he wanted.

* * *

"Hello, Professor," Hermione said, her voice low and seductive. Snape raised his eyebrows, too stunned to try and come up with a logical explanation. Then she whirled around, cast a Silencing Charm on the door, and promptly started laughing her head off.

"Hmm… finally gone 'round the bend, have you?" Snape said dryly. "Or did Draco toy with your pumpkin juice again?"

Hermione straightened up, getting control of herself. "I'm sorry, Professor, I just… well… we've set a plan for revenge into motion."

"Really? Do tell," Snape said curiously.

"Well… the thing is, I'm sure it's something you're not going to like. We can carry it off without your help—but it would be a lot better if we had you on our side…"

"Uh-oh," Snape muttered. "Tell me."

"Um… heh… well… Harry had this idea. If Malfoy thought you and I were conspiring against him together, he'd be beyond freaked out, right?" she stammered.

"True," Snape said slowly.

"Along the same train of thought, what would freak Malfoy out even more than that?"

"You're not suggesting—"

"It wouldn't be anything major," she said hurriedly. "Just, like, we let Malfoy overhear us saying a few… choice phrases."

Snape thought about it for a long while… and finally started laughing. "That's _disgusting,_ but it's brilliant. An ongoing prank… and meanwhile, we can attack Draco in several other ways."

"Exactly," Hermione said, grinning. "So you'll do it?" Snape nodded and Hermione sagged in relief. "Whew. Excellent. Do you have any ideas? We're sending word to our contacts, but it'll take awhile to receive the response, naturally, and Ginny's making a list of people we could call in for reinforcements—"

"'Sending word to your contacts?' 'Reinforcements?'" Snape repeated. "You sound like you're planning some covert mission for a war."

"I am," Hermione said firmly. "Malfoy messed with the wrong person." Her fingers twitched as though she longed to throttle him—which she did. She took a deep breath to calm herself. "Anyway, what I meant is we sent owls to the Weasley twins and… stuff."

"Did you write to Sirius Black?" Snape said, smiling evilly.

"Well, yes," Hermione admitted, cringing. Snape and Sirius still avidly hated each other.

To her surprise, Snape merely laughed in a purely evil way. "Well, I've got a prank you're not going to hear from him." He kept laughing, so much that Hermione took a nervous step backwards, uncertain of what to think. It was a long while before he stopped and began to tell her what he was talking about, and the two of them laughed themselves sick as Snape related the prank, from why and how he'd done it to the aftermath.

Two hours after Hermione arrived in Snape's office, she finally remembered Ginny. "Oh my god! I've got to get going, Ginny's outside guarding your door!"

"Why, exactly, is Weasley guarding my door?" Snape asked, confused.

"Well, Malfoy followed us down here, eavesdropping, so we made him think…"

_"That's_ why you cast a Silencing Charm," Snape said, realization dawning, "so that Draco wouldn't hear what we were _really_ saying, and would think… What _exactly_ did you say earlier that Draco overheard?" he asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Um… see… y-you don't want to know, Professor," Hermione stammered, blushing furiously and half-running to the door. "Bye!"

"Wait!" Snape called, stepping over to her. He quickly started messing up her hair.

She stood there in shock for a moment, dumbfounded. "What are you _doing?"_ Hermione demanded when she'd regained her wits, feeling beyond strange—even though she'd formed a sort of odd truce with the once-hated Potions Master, it was still way too weird to have him playing with her hair like he was Harry or Ron or Ginny.

"It's for show," Snape explained. "In case Draco sees you on the way back."

"Oh! Duh, Hermione. Good idea," she said, rearranging her robes and shirt for effect.

"Good," Snape said, stepping back and looking her over appraisingly. "Remember to smile and look happy on your way back." He paused, frowning. "Dear Lord, this is unbelievably bizarre."

"Yup," Hermione agreed with a sigh. The two of them stood there awkwardly for a moment, not looking at each other. Then Snape frowned and glared at her.

"Five points from Gryffindor," he barked at her suddenly.

"What?" Hermione demanded, startled. "What for!"

"Nothing, it just makes me feel better," Snape said, smiling coldly as she glowered at him. "It's good to know that prank war or not, I'm still an evil Slytherin bastard."


	5. Ideas

_Author's Notes:_ If you'd like to leave a review, I'd appreciate it; it does make me smile and I like to know what people think about my story. However, as I said last chapter, I'm not doing this to get extra reviews; I want to get my files all straightened out and improve the story. But feel free to let me know your opinion, and to make suggestions or try to give me ideas. Over the course of this fic, many reviewers have given me ideas for my chapters. Please note that if you already reviewed a chapter before, even though it was temporarily torn down, you won't be able to review when that chapter is reposted. However, feel free to send me PMs or emails if you'd like. I do try to get back to everyone, though I don't always succeed, but I try.

* * *

**Chapter Four**

_Ideas _

Ginny had long since given up standing around, and had flopped down on the cold stone floor, humming absently and wondering what exactly had happened to Hermione. Two hours had gone by—had Snape killed her for suggesting they pretend to be lovers or something? _Why_ hadn't Hermione come out yet?

All sorts of worried thoughts filtered through her head, the what-could-have-happened scenarios getting wackier and wackier. _Maybe,_ she thought with a giggle, _they really _are_ having sex—_

Her thoughts broke off and her jaw dropped open as Hermione came out just then. Her already-unruly hair was so tousled Hermione might as well have been struck by lightning, her shirt was unbuttoned enough to give Ginny a glimpse of her bra, and her robe was hanging off one shoulder. To top it all off, Hermione had the look of a girl who'd just had a lot of fun; she was practically glowing, and she had a huge smile plastered on her face.

"What—" Ginny began stupidly, unable to get her brain to function.

"It's for show," Hermione mouthed. Ginny could have collapsed in relief.

"I thought you were shagging," Ginny mouthed back. Hermione giggled and shook her head emphatically.

"It's about time," Ginny complained, as per their plan. "I've had a heck of a time keeping people from guessing anything—it's a little weird to see a Gryffindor, let alone a close friend of the Boy-Who-Lived, sitting outside Snape's door. And Malfoy's been past twice to irritate me."

"Do you think he suspects something?" Hermione asked, doing her best to sound panicked. Ginny shook her head and Hermione put a smile back on her face, looking as dreamy as Luna Lovegood.

* * *

Draco was on his way back from the bathroom, heading to Snape's office, where he'd been checking out the Granger/Snape situation for most of the past two hours. He froze when he heard the sound of Ginny Weasley's voice and paused to listen.

"…Malfoy's been past twice to irritate me," Weasley grumbled.

"Do you think he suspects something?" It was Granger. Draco's eyes widened—was she _really_ talking about what he _thought_ she was talking about? Part of him had been ready to believe he was losing it or had misunderstood…

The two girls came around the corner just then. Draco gaped at Hermione's disheveled appearance; overhearing something shocking and seeing proof of it were two different things. _No way,_ he told himself firmly. _No way in hell._

"Ugh, get out of my face, Malfoy," Hermione said, her dreamy smile slipping momentarily before returning full force. "I'm having too good a day for you to spoil it."

The two girls pushed past him, leaving Draco to stare after them in astonishment.

* * *

It was almost eleven o'clock by the time the girls returned, the common room already empty. "Where the hell have you been?" Harry demanded, then got a good look at Hermione and felt his jaw unhinge. Ron's entire face was already turning a horrible shade of red.

"It's not what it looks like," Hermione said in a rush. "We messed up my hair and clothes in case Malfoy saw me leaving Snape's office."

"Did he?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Yup," Ginny said gleefully. She walked over and sat in an armchair next to Harry. "You should have seen the look on his face, guys!"

Hermione sat down on Ron's lap and began to button up her shirt. Ron grabbed her hand to stop her, grinning. She smiled back and snuggled against him.

"Did you get him to help?" Harry wanted to know.

"Yeah, he said he would," Hermione told him. "And that's not all—he gave me a great idea for the prank war."

"Do tell," Ron said, eyes glinting mischievously.

"Well, see… where do I start? McGonagall was teaching during the seventh year of the Marauders—you know, James, Sirius, Lupin, and Wormtail—and Snape and Harry's mum were in the same year. Well, Lily was Head Girl, and she got in a fight with James and Sirius and ended up docking points. They were really pissed, and James yelled some comment about getting her knickers in a twist. Sirius joked that James was always thinking about her knickers, and somehow, that led to a dare in which James and Sirius snuck into Lily's room and stole some of her nicer bras and underwear."

Harry had a bit of a grossed-out look on his face at the idea of his dad and Sirius stealing his mum's underwear. Ron looked beyond disgusted and said flatly, "I'm not stealing Malfoy's underwear, 'Mione, sorry."

"That's not what I meant," she said quickly. "You see, Lily found out what had happened and went to chat with her old pal McGonagall, and McGonagall told Snape—she knew Snape liked Lily, the two of them had been friends before he realized Lily was Muggle-born and a Gryffindor, but anyway, McGonagall held Snape after class and said she wanted to get revenge for Lily. Yet McGonagall couldn't do it herself—she'd have been risking her job, and she'd only been teaching a year or two. So Snape came up with a really great idea. He and Lily executed the prank, he and McGonagall planned it, and McGonagall gave them both alibis should they be up for suspicion."

"So what did they do?" Ginny asked impatiently. She'd been dying to hear the story, but Hermione hadn't wanted to tell it before they'd gotten back to the common room.

"Well, Lily stole back her underwear a day or so before the prank, and used a spell to duplicate them. McGonagall went to the morning Gryffindor Quidditch practice the day of the prank and held James and Sirius after, giving them a talk about something or other in the locker rooms. The rest of the team had gone on ahead to the castle, so James and Sirius started walking back alone. Well, Snape and Lily put on masks and stuff and ambushed James and Sirius on the way back. They cast an Impediment Jinx, took James and Sirius's clothes—well, Lily did most of that part—and then put James and Sirius in the duplicated copies of Lily's bras and knickers. They tied James to one of the Quidditch goalposts, Sirius to another, and then left. Some students came out on the grounds eventually and discovered them later that afternoon, told the whole school about it. It's a Hogwarts legend; people still talk about it sometimes, according to Snape." The four of them snickered at the image of James and Sirius hanging from the goalpost in leopard-print women's underwear.

"Did anyone catch Lily and Snape?" Ginny said tentatively.

"No. James and Sirius swore up and down that it was Snape, and even though James liked Lily too much to incriminate her, Sirius insisted she be punished. But McGonagall claimed she'd asked Lily and Snape to wait in her office while she talked to James and Sirius in the locker rooms, and said that Lily and Snape were still in the office by the time she got back. When Sirius said he could prove it was Lily's underwear, she showed that her underwear was safe and sound in her room."

"We won't have that sort of alibi," Harry pointed out.

"Yes, we will. Snape will tell Dumbledore—hopefully in front of Malfoy, just to creep Malfoy out more—that I was in his office, along with whichever one of you wants to come with me. The two who don't pull the prank will be in the common room or something, in plain view of plenty of students. I was thinking Ginny and Harry could stay in the common room, and Ron and I could pull the prank—Snape could say he'd caught us kissing in the hallway and had taken us to his office to deal out punishment."

"It sounds pretty foolproof to me," Ron said slowly.

"So Snape will detain Malfoy after Quidditch practice?" Ginny said.

"Actually, I was thinking of ambushing him inside the castle and carrying him out to the field," Hermione said casually, as though she was discussing an essay topic. "After all, that's what he did to me—knocked me out, carried me to Snape's room, and took my clothes. Let's return the favor."

"Shouldn't be too hard," Harry agreed. "All the Quidditch captains have access to the training schedules, so I'll look up a time when there's no practice."

"It would be best if it was a while before Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff practice," Ron pointed out. "If the Gryffindor team came out and found him, they might get blamed, and if the Slytherins came out, they might cut Malfoy down before anyone saw him. Not a lot of people go out to the pitch on Saturdays of their own accord this time of year, with all the Quidditch practices going on, so a Quidditch team would have to find them."

"Make it Hufflepuff," Hermione said. "Malfoy pranked Justin Finch-Fletchley not too long ago, removed his eyebrows or something."

"Yeah, and Hannah Abbot sprouted purple fur—they're trying to prove it was Slytherin, but no luck yet," Ginny added.

"Hufflepuff it is," Harry said. He looked up as a soft tapping noise came from the direction of the common room window. The outline of an owl was just visible in the dim outdoor lights. "Hedwig! She'll have Lupin and Sirius's replies."

He got up and opened the window, admitting his beautiful snowy owl. Hedwig landed on Harry's arm and stuck out her leg for Harry to remove the letter. "Read it aloud, Harry," Ginny said. Harry cleared his throat and began to read.

_Harry—_

_Ah, the seventh year prank war. Brings back some great memories, you know. Your father and Remus and I nailed so many Slytherins—well, mostly just your father and I did, but Remus helped occasionally, whether he admits it or not. Rosier, Wilkes, Avery, the Lestrange brothers, and Snape… the best ones usually involved Snape. We even got some of the girls… anyway, here's a list of what we did._

_1) We transfigured a water goblet into a chimpanzee and put it in the Slytherin dormitory. Apparently it crapped all over the Slytherins' beds and then it started throwing its crap at the Slytherin guys when they entered. Highly recommend that one._

_2) Rabastan Lestrange said something snotty to your mum, and James grew his butt to about seven times its normal size, and then made some comment about "you always were a giant ass." Everyone made fun of him for the rest of the school year, it was great._

_3) We hit Snape and all of his Slytherin pals with a charm that made them sing opera-style instead of speak normally._

_4) James did this charm that grew huge boobs on Snape. Interesting, to say the least—the charm is in an issue of _Witch Weekly_ from the 1970's, check the library._

_5) A friend of Lily's in Ravenclaw—can't recall her name—found out that her boyfriend was cheating on her. To get back at him Lily cast this rather horrifying charm that made him go completely impotent for a good long while. He never did live it down._

_6) Childish, yes, but we hit Snape with this charm that made him fart every two minutes. It's in the same book as the butt-enlargement spell; I don't remember the title but it had "curse your enemies and avenge your friends" in it._

_7) We booby-trapped the Slytherin common room. Every time a Slytherin tried to go in or out, they got hit by a spell that turned half their face red and the other half gold. They knew it was us, though, since we used Gryffindor colors—I suggest you use different ones, we served detention for a week. If you can't figure out how to do the spell, Hermione should know._

_8) We cast this charm that split open the back of Snape's robes and pants. Every time he'd cast a spell to fix it, the material would split open again and eventually he had to spend three hours with McGonagall while the two of them tried to fix it. Poor woman had to see more than anyone should, but hey, all's fair in love, war, and Quidditch._

_Well, I hope that helps you out some. Let me know if you need more—I stole Lily's school diary not long after we graduated, still have it lying around somewhere. It should have more. Have fun, and kick some Slytherin ass, all right?_

_Sirius_

All four Gryffindors were laughing their heads off as they finished reading. "That should be helpful," Ron gasped.

"There's another letter," Harry said through his laughter. "From Lupin." Harry did his best to gain control and started reading.

_Harry,_

_I'm certain Sirius is filling your head with all sorts of stories about our pasts in the prank war. However, I strongly advise you not to get involved. I hope telling you this doesn't give you ideas, but James and Sirius—and sometimes Peter and I, when one of their victims was extremely ticked off—were hit with as many pranks as James and Sirius executed, if not more. They both spent a day and a half unable to say or write any phrase other than "I'm an annoying stupid prat," which took quite a while for Madam Pomfrey to sort out. Another time Amelia Bones—yes, the current Minister of Magic—got so angry at them she forged pictures of them holding hands and wearing dresses, then posted the photographs all over the school. Moreover, if Hogwarts was holding a prank war, it was nothing compared to the war between your father and Sirius and Lily Evans. Please, don't tell Sirius I told you this, but he and James once stole from Lily, and in return she somehow knocked them out, put them in bras and underwear and tied them to the Quidditch goalposts. In retaliation, they… well, okay; they threatened _me _until _I_ agreed to use my access to the prefects' bathroom to steal her clothes while she showered. She knew it was me, unfortunately, since neither James nor Sirius were prefects, and the next thing I know I'm waking up nude in a clearing in the Forbidden Forest. I knew better to strike back, but James and Sirius perpetuated the vicious cycle, often enlisting Peter's help. My seventh year was the most embarrassing time of my life by the time Lily was through with us, not to mention the wrath my two best friends managed to incur from the Slytherins, Minerva McGonagall, and the majority of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws and Gryffindors. If that's not enough to discourage you, think of what Molly will do to you; she'll have a fit if you lot get into trouble. I'd hate to see what would happen if you got caught putting a chimp in the Slytherin dormitory or causing Draco Malfoy to sprout horns. Be careful, Harry—even if you manage to avoid getting yourself in trouble, you can't avoid being on the receiving end of pranks sometimes. Take a while to imagine how difficult it is to escape the Forbidden Forest clothed, let alone nude and wandless, and when you've a nice clear picture imagine getting from the Forbidden Forest to Gryffindor Tower with nothing but some leaves. Try to stay out of trouble, will you?_

_—Remus_

"Poor Lupin," Ginny chuckled.

"What do you think Malfoy would do if he ended up naked in the middle of the Forbidden Forest?" Hermione asked, grinning wickedly.

"Why don't we grow breasts on him and _then_ leave him naked in the middle of the Forbidden Forest and find out?" Ginny suggested.

"Now there's a thought," Ron said with a mischievous glint in his eye.


	6. Messing With Malfoy

_Author's Notes:_ This chapter contains a bit more action between Snape and Hermione than I'd intended it to have, but the story just really flowed out this way. It won't be too bad, and I swear this is the worst of it for the rest of the fic and probably the last of it you'll see, at least for a good long while. (They'll still remain friends though, probably.) This fic will ALWAYS be a Draco/Hermione story!

* * *

**Chapter Five**

_Messing with Malfoy_

Hermione was doing her best not to laugh as she crept down the dungeon stairs to Snape's office. She knew Malfoy was following her; during dinner, she had winked at Snape and smiled while Malfoy was watching. Snape had grinned back and raised an eyebrow before leaving the Great Hall; she had left not long afterwards, and a discreet glance at the Slytherin table on her way out had told her Malfoy was leaving too.

She knocked on Snape's office, and entered, looking around and glimpsing Malfoy's blond hair around the corner. The moment she closed the door, she nodded at Snape to let him know Malfoy was listening. "Hello Professor," she said in the same seductive voice she'd used the previous night.

Snape smiled, deciding he might as well have some fun with their little game. "You're late, Miss Granger. I was beginning to worry you weren't going to come."

Hermione grinned and forced herself not to laugh. "I never have to worry about that," she purred.

Snape's eyes widened and his jaw dropped slightly before he recovered. "Yes, and I'll make sure you never do," he said, making his voice sound a bit deeper.

"Ooh, I love it when you use that tone," she said with a giggle. Not to be outdone, she added, "Can we do it on the desk this time? Just this once?"

Outside the office, Draco was feeling faint. This couldn't be happening, could it? Snape couldn't really be screwing Granger; that was just… no. No _way._

Without thinking, Draco stepped up to the door and banged on it. He didn't know what he was going to do, but he had to find out for sure if they were really about to do what they were talking about.

Hermione and Snape both froze in horror. "Malfoy!" she mouthed, then promptly unzipped her robe.

"What are you doing?" Snape mouthed back, startled.

She pointed at the door and began to untuck and unbutton her shirt, stopping before the amount of skin uncovered became indecent and messing up her hair. Snape caught on and shucked off his own robe, undoing the buttons at his shirt collar and cuffs and shaking his head to make his hair look a little messier before heading for the door and throwing it open. "Draco," he said coldly, as a shocked Draco stared up at him. "What can I do for you?"

Draco turned to look at Hermione, who blushed, then glanced at her shirt, widening her eyes as if only just realizing how she looked. She tugged the shirt up around herself and then turned her back to him.

"I was just stopping by to ask you about our homework," Draco said in a strangled voice. "I'll… I'll, um, I didn't know you were busy, I'll leave you alone now."

"Feel free to talk to me before class," Snape told him, sounding irritated. He closed the door in Malfoy's face and turned to Hermione. "Can't believe we forgot the Silencing Charm," he told her, throwing his voice in the direction of the door for Malfoy's benefit before pointing his wand at the door and saying _"Silencio!"_

The two of them started laughing hysterically. It was a long time before they got control, and Hermione managed to do it first. An idea had occurred to her, and the very thought made her cringe, but she knew it was a good plan and had to pitch the idea to Snape. "Professor?" she said seriously.

"Oh, the look on his face… what, Hermione?" he asked.

She blinked, having heard Snape use her first name for the first time since she'd met him. She remembered her idea, however, and closed her eyes, not wanting to see the look on his face when she told him. "Professor," she said, her voice much more high-pitched than usual, "give me a hickey."

Snape was dumbfounded, to say the least. It was quite awhile before he could form a coherent thought. "WHAAAT?" he choked out.

"Malfoy will eventually start thinking we're playing him. If he sees me with a hickey, though…"

"So get Weasley to give you one," Snape told her, staring at her with an expression that clearly said "oh hell no."

Hermione shook her head, her eyes still tightly shut. "First of all, Ron wouldn't do it once he figured out why I was asking him to do it, which won't take long considering I've always told him I'd hex him straight into St. Mungo's if he ever did it before. Second… Malfoy's going to be waiting for me the moment I step outside here. If I don't have a hickey until tomorrow morning, he's going to know it was Ron, not you, or at least suspect it was Ron if he starts trying to weigh all the evidence that points to you and I doing… well, you know… or not."

Snape frowned. He could definitely see the merit in marking her neck… but that didn't change the fact he didn't want to do it. "I could get fired," he said, searching desperately for excuses.

Hermione sighed and finally opened her eyes. "Thirty Galleons says Dumbledore not only knows exactly what we're up to, he thinks it's hysterical."

Snape couldn't help but chuckle. "Yes, you're right. Fine, I'll do it, but if you ever tell anyone about this I'll Avada Kedavra your Gryffindor arse."

Hermione smiled slightly, privately thinking that he didn't need to worry about her telling anyone. She and Snape stepped closer, and she tilted her neck to the left and swept her hair away, feeling as though she was presenting herself as a sacrifice to a vampire.

Snape gave a small shudder and grabbed her shoulders, lowering his mouth to her neck. She cringed, far more than creeped out as her professor—who just a few weeks ago had been one of her least favorite people—began sucking on her skin. "Okay, this is beyond weird," she whispered a few moments later.

Snape snorted and cracked up, tickling her neck as he laughed against her. She shivered slightly and tensed at the strangely pleasant feeling. Snape pulled back to appraise his work. "It's barely noticeable," he told her. "Give me a second."

A second turned into a minute, and a minute turned into several. Snape spent a while on the same spot and then moved up and down her neck, covering the whole side of it. Hermione was starting to feel a little light-headed; somewhere along the line, she'd forgotten she was letting her professor mark her neck and had given in to the pleasurable feeling.

As he moved his mouth from one point of her neck to another, his lips brushed her and she let out a strangled, barely audible groan. It was enough for Snape to realize what he was doing and pull back quickly, surprised at himself. "I may have overdone it," he said ruefully.

Hermione's eyes stayed closed, half in embarrassment and half in a deranged sort of delight. "Oh, the more the better," she said off-handedly.

"Should I do the other side, then?" Snape asked, trying to keep the hopefulness out of his voice. He was mildly surprised when Hermione nodded and tilted her neck the other way.

It was a very long time before he stopped, and he only did so because he was running out of space and wishing more and more that he could nibble her ear, or go lower, or perhaps do more. It had been _way_ too long since he'd done this sort of thing. "Well," he said slowly, "Draco will be downright frightened. I do hope you've thought of an explanation for Weasley."

Hermione blushed. "I'm not going to tell Ron. I'm going to tell him I used a spell if he sees me before I can do a Concealment Charm."

"Why _didn't_ you use a spell?" Snape asked suspiciously.

"Because I don't know any, duh," she said, rolling her eyes. "Why on earth would I bother to go learn a hickey-faking spell? If there even _is_ such a thing."

"Good point," Snape said with a smile. "Well, you should get going."

"Yes, definitely—oh!" She told him about the letters from Sirius and Remus, leaving out the pranks that had been done to Snape. The two of them were soon laughing, the bizarre feeling of the neck incident forgotten.

"I helped Lily put Lupin in the forest," Snape explained. "She lured him outside by asking him to go for a walk with her. I followed, knocked him out, and dragged him into the woods… we stayed away from the major monsters, kept to the outskirts of the forest and all, but it was still difficult for him to get out, never mind get into the castle. A Ravenclaw girl saw him and snapped some pictures; she used them to blackmail him into taking her to a dance."

"He failed to mention that," Hermione said, cracking up.

"I'm not surprised. Well, it's getting late; you should get back before curfew."

Hermione nodded. "Same time tomorrow?"

"I have papers to grade," Snape said regretfully.

She frowned. "I have papers to _write_, come to think of it. Trying to stay ahead and all."

"All right, maybe the day after tomorrow?"

"No, that's Saturday, remember? You have to catch the Head Girl kissing her boyfriend and detain them in your office, then tell Professor Dumbledore about it so they have an alibi when Malfoy is discovered hanging from the Quidditch goalpost in a black lace thong and bra."

"Where are you going to get a black lace thong and bra?" Snape teased, smiling.

"Uh… Ginny," Hermione said, blushing.

"Ginny, huh?"

"Yes, from Ginny," she repeated firmly. "Honest." _Oh, no, don't say that!_ she scolded herself. Oops. Damn, hadn't that word caused enough trouble?

"Sure, Granger. _Sure_."

"Fine, I'm using my own knickers, you happy?" Hermione snapped. "I'm using my old worn out, former-favorite black bra and a thong that's too small now. I own black underwear, I admit it. I own more than one pair, too!"

Snape held up his hands in surrender. "Sorry, couldn't resist." He cleared his throat, a touch of the awkwardness returning. "Anyway, start snogging Weasley at noon, right outside the library. I'll be waiting."

"Gotcha. Bye!" Hermione called. She picked up her robe and left hurriedly.

She'd just turned the corner in the hallway when she ran smack into Malfoy and stumbled back, nearly falling on her butt. "Watch where you're going!" she snapped.

Draco grabbed her arm as she tried to walk away, his eyes glinting. "What happened to your neck, Granger? Been having a little… _fun_ with Snape?"

"Are you mad?" Hermione retorted, schooling her features into a slightly worried but mostly defiant expression and keeping her voice less than confident for the proper effect. "Me and _Snape_! What potions have you been drinking?"

Draco suddenly pushed her against the wall, glaring into her eyes. She glowered back, not wanting to let him know he was getting to her. Draco glanced down, straight down her still half-opened shirt. Hermione gaped at him, unable to believe he was actually checking her out. "You should button up your shirt," Draco said, staring at her chest and smirking. He met her eye again with a mocking gaze.

She pushed him with strength she didn't know she had, shoving him off her and against the opposite wall, hard. "Don't concern yourself with my shirt," she snarled, her voice dangerous and low, her body shaking with rage. She drew her wand, pointing it right between his eyes.

Draco merely smirked back, maintaining eye contact for a long while before letting his eyes slip to her chest once again. Hermione's lip curled, and she stomped away, knowing he was just trying to get to her.

* * *

Ginny looked up in surprise as Hermione returned late once again, as disheveled as the previous night but also infuriated, looking like she was ready to throttle someone. "What's wrong?" Ginny asked as Hermione turned towards the girls' dormitory staircase.

Hermione spun, her expression softening as she spotted Ginny. "Hey," she said, trying to calm herself. "Where are Harry and Ron?"

"The hospital wing," Ginny replied absently. "What's wrong?"

Hermione's eyes widened. "The hospital wing? Why? Are they okay?"

"They're fine. Pansy Parkinson tried to do that one spell Remus told us about, the one where James and Sirius could only say 'I'm an annoying stupid prat.' It didn't work right—no surprise, considering this is Pansy Parkinson we're talking about. They both went half-blind and have been constantly repeating 'omelette du fromage' for the past hour and a half."

"How exactly does one go from 'I'm an annoying stupid prat' to the French phrase for 'cheese omelet'?" Hermione demanded. "Honestly! And _she's_ a prefect? Puh-lease."

Ginny smiled. "Oh, so _that's_ what 'omelette du fromage' means. I thought it was gibberish. Anyway, Madam Pomfrey is trying to alter the antidote potion, but she has to figure out just how the curse was botched. They should be out by morning, though. So, question number one—what the hell did you do with Snape that got you covered in hickeys, and number two, why are you so pissed off? He didn't do something—"

"No, of course not," Hermione said hastily. She cast a Concealment Charm on her neck and filled Ginny in on the story of letting Snape mark her so Malfoy would freak, then explained what Malfoy had done.

"He's just trying to upset you, Herm," Ginny told her, her eyes still wide from the shock of hearing about Snape sucking neck (Hermione's neck, which was even more bizarre) and Malfoy scoping her out.

"True, but it was thoroughly disgusting—especially considering he's seen me naked."

"WHAT!" Ginny shrieked.

"Duh, Ginny, the prank, remember? He took my clothes and put me in bed with Snape?" Hermione shivered.

"Oh, yeah, almost forgot," Ginny said sheepishly. Then her eyes narrowed. "Well, perhaps an interrogation is in order, don't you think?"

"What do you mean?"

"When you've got him hanging from the goalpost, maybe you should ask him a few questions. You know, hit him with a truth spell, or threaten to leave him there if he doesn't talk. Leave him there anyway, of course."

"Yes, of course. That's not a bad idea—but then he'll have proof it was me."

"Proof he can't use—Malfoy would be incriminating himself, if he told about the prank he played on you and Snape."

"Hmm… true. An interrogation… that could get interesting."


	7. Gryffindor Strikes Back

**Chapter Six**

_Gryffindor Strikes Back_

Hermione and Ron left the common room at ten in the morning, calling out their good-byes to Ginny and Harry, who were sitting together on the couch, chatting about Quidditch. It was a bleak day and the majority of the school had gotten a lot of homework, so the common room was nearly filled with people studying or else goofing off indoors where it was warm. Dozens of people saw Ginny and Harry sitting together in the middle of the room, just as they'd planned.

Ron and Hermione went to the library. Hermione checked out some books and they left a little before noon. She started kissing Ron in the hallway outside the library, glad to lose herself in her boyfriend and forget the things she'd done with Snape, which still grossed her out. Ever since her last visit to his office, her logical side kept trying to go back to the day and explain away her feelings and emotions and actions, or get her to examine them; her stubborn, more humane side, however, was perfectly happy to never ever think about what she'd done again.

She didn't even hear Snape when he first arrived, lost as she was with Ron. Between the prank war, homework, Ron's Quidditch practices and Hermione's meetings with Snape, she hadn't gotten to see her boyfriend as much as she liked.

"Weasley! Granger! Stop that at once!"

Ron reluctantly pulled away, and Hermione pouted and tried to pull him back down to kiss her before Ron turned to glare at Snape. Remembering the plan, Hermione spun around, trying to act like she usually would if she'd been caught snogging her boyfriend by a teacher like Snape.

"Ten points from Gryffindor! Each! Follow me!" Snape growled. The two sighed and followed him down to the dungeons. Everything was going according to plan.

Not far from his office was a shadowy alcove, where Malfoy lay face down, immobilized by the Full Body-Bind. "Did he see you?" Hermione whispered.

"No," Snape said, changing his voice to hide his identity. He handed them an inkbottle, which had been changed into a Portkey. "The Quidditch pitch is clear, the closest person to it is Hagrid, but he's hung over and asleep," Snape added.

"Did you have to take points off?" Ron asked Snape sourly. While he knew the whole Snape/Hermione thing was a good idea, he hated Snape and he hated the thought of Snape spending time with Ron's girlfriend even more.

"Yes," Snape said, smiling coldly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Not now, guys, we're behind schedule," she said. She placed the inkbottle on Malfoy's back, her and Ron each keeping a finger on it. Hermione handed Snape her library books as the Portkey activated.

As they landed near the Gryffindor-side goalposts, Hermione and Ron pulled up the hoods on their cloaks, so that they wouldn't be recognizable from a distance. "I'm not looking forward to this part," Ron muttered as they rolled a furious, petrified Malfoy over.

"I'll do it," Hermione told him reluctantly. Ron shot her a grateful look and turned his back. Hermione smirked down at Malfoy and began to tug off his clothes. The spell was starting to wear off, enough so that he could twitch his fingers and make faint facial expressions, and he looked absolutely enraged. He managed the choke out the word "kill" as she removed his knickers, doing her best not to look but eventually looking anyway, blushing as she did so and casting a furtive glance in the direction of her boyfriend's back, making sure neither of them could see her expression.

She put her old, fraying underwear on his chest, chanting a spell to make it the right size for him and slipping it on him, which was a bit difficult to do to a rigid person and involved a lot of embarrassment and lifting and flipping him over. He was quite dirty by the time he was dressed.

Another spell lifted Malfoy into the air, golden ropes that appeared to be pure light and energy binding his wrists and ankles. She cast a Silencing Charm, then a counter curse to the immobilizing spell. Malfoy immediately began screaming, but no sound left his mouth. Hermione grinned as, with a motion of her wand, the ropes extended and dragged Draco to the center goalpost, fastening him to the pole lightly, giving him the appearance of a ritual sacrifice awaiting the dragon to come feast. Hermione and Ron laughed as they picked up the empty inkbottle.

"Hufflepuff Quidditch practice in fourteen minutes and counting," Ron said. The Portkey would return them to Snape's office ten minutes before the Hufflepuffs' practice.

Hermione nodded and cast the minor truth spell she'd found the day before. It wasn't very powerful, but if during the casting the victim wasn't prepared, and if they weren't very good at shaking off mind control spells like the Imperius Curse, it would work for a short time. Malfoy's eyes glazed slightly as it took effect. Hermione's smile widened as she lifted the Silencing Charm.

"Malfoy," she said cheerfully, "you're going to tell me exactly how you played that little prank on me and Snape. Aren't you, Malfoy?"

Malfoy nodded stupidly and began to speak. "The prank took six and a half weeks to plan. I even worked on it over the summer. Pansy Parkinson, Crabbe, Goyle and I made Polyjuice potion, and stole Lavender Brown's hairbrush during Care of Magical Creatures class to get her hair. The sleeping potion took me three weeks to make, so I brewed it at the same time as the Polyjuice one. I diluted the sleeping potion in the same dose for both of you, knowing Snape would get farther than you, based on body weight and physical strength. He made it to his room; you made it up the stairs in the entrance hall. The day before, we followed Snape and got the password to his private chambers, and then we tailed some Gryffindor first years, found out where the common room was and what the password was. Then we gave you and Snape the potion and followed you out of the Great Hall. We waited for you to collapse. Goyle picked you up and carried you to a secret passage in the dungeons. I took all your clothes and your wand and gave them to Pansy. She took Crabbe—as a lookout, mostly—and went to the Gryffindor common room, drank the Polyjuice potion with Lavender's hair, and put your stuff on your bed. I checked to make sure you were definitely out cold—"

"How?" Hermione asked suspiciously. Something in the way he'd said it—smiling, even through the mental fog the spell created—gave her a sickened feeling.

"I touched you. Goyle and I had a good laugh about it."

"_Where_ did you touch me?" Hermione roared. _Oh, gross!_

"Oh, nothing will prevent me from killing you," Ron growled, his neck and ears red and his wand out. Hermione put a restraining hand on his arm, though she wasn't sure if it was to keep Ron from getting into trouble or to prevent him from kicking Malfoy's ass before she could.

"It was nothing major," Malfoy said, smirking. The spell was wearing off; he was regaining some of his emotions. "Just ran my hands over her awhile, then I broke into Snape's room and carried her in myself. Goyle stood watch. Snape had passed out on his bed, so I turned him over, used a spell to remove his clothes, and arranged Granger on top of him. Put the blanket on them and left."

Hermione couldn't think straight. Her hand tightened around the inkbottle until her knuckles turned white. He had drugged her, kidnapped her, stripped her, put his hands on her body while she slept, and then put her in a compromising position with Snape! _Snape_ of all people! She would kill him, she would kill him kill him kill him—

She took a step forward, but before she could get her wand up, she felt the familiar tug behind her navel as the Portkey activated, and she was thrown against Ron as they landed in Snape's office. "How did it go?" Snape asked eagerly.

Hermione didn't answer. She regained her balance, turned and headed for the door. "I'll kill him," she whispered. "I'LL KILL HIM!"

Ron stared at her, having never seen her so angry. Snape—a former fairly good Quidditch player—had enough reflexes to get over his shock, run to her before she could reach the door, and throw his arms around her waist from behind, lifting her up and halting her. "I'LL KILL HIM!" she shouted again and again, kicking and flailing as she fought to reach the door, nearly overturning the spindly Snape.

"Calm down!" Snape growled, wrestling with her as she struggled to get free.

"Easy for you to say! Malfoy wasn't touching you in your sleep!" she yelled.

Ron, who couldn't help finding the entire scene very comical, did his best not to laugh at the disgusting mental picture of Malfoy running his hands over Snape while Snape snored. "Hermione—" he began slowly, trying to reason with her—after all, he could kill Malfoy later, provided Hermione didn't get there first, so he had to calm her down.

"I'LL KILL HIM! I should have guessed when he looked down my shirt yesterday—"

"Listen to me!" Snape hissed, too busy trying to detain her to let the shock of that statement sink in (Ron, however, now looked nearly as angry as Hermione; he was obviously struggling not to go marching off himself). "You can't kill him, so stop trying. If you want to go to Dumbledore about it, we can try, but you'd have to explain a lot of things that are going to be difficult to explain. We can, however, get revenge. Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, prank for a prank—it's the uncut version of the Hogwarts way. Understand?"

Hermione stopped kicking and Snape set her down. Malfoy hadn't stared at her the other night any more than some of the other guys at Hogwarts—hell, she'd caught Ron and even Harry looking down her shirt or up her skirt, staring at her chest or her rear before. She didn't really think it warranted her filing a complaint, especially not when her shirt had been half open. But touching her in her sleep was unacceptable. It would warrant much stronger revenge than a prank. What would happen if she complained about what Malfoy had done? Would his mother's connections get him out of it? Narcissa Malfoy, who had never been a Death Eater, had done a lot to restore the Malfoys' reputation after Lucius's death, and still had plenty of ties to the Ministry. Plus Draco wasn't out of school yet, so the majority of the punishment he would have faced from the Ministry would be nullified anyway. Sure, she could press formal charges—but the Ministry had ways of making her admit that she'd just tied Malfoy to a goalpost in a bra and thong, even if she tried to lie at a trial. And had he even been telling the truth? The truth spell wasn't very potent, and he had shown emotion under it… was that really natural with the spell? She didn't think so; people regained their emotions pretty slowly as the spell wore off, and surely the spell would have lasted longer than that. Malfoy could have faked the whole confession, telling her half-truths, lying just to piss her off—that was exactly Malfoy's style. She didn't doubt what he'd said about how he'd executed the prank, but touching her in her sleep… she wasn't exactly Malfoy's type (at least she sincerely hoped she wasn't), and something told her Malfoy wouldn't do that; his animosity towards her had probably kept him from caring about anything but the prank, and Slytherins weren't ones to look at Muggle-born witches and see anything but a Mudblood. It was possible he'd added the whole touching thing in, knowing she'd be upset, maybe… of course! Malfoy assumed she would tell Dumbledore the truth if she thought Malfoy had done something that horrid to her, and then the story of Malfoy's prank would be all over school, and she'd get nailed for the crime of tying him to the goalpost while he went free because he hadn't really done anything. She was becoming more and more certain that the spell hadn't worked at all… and Malfoy wouldn't have told her he'd done that if he really had; he didn't exactly want to get expelled.

So he probably hadn't felt her in her sleep. Still, he had acted in a way that was unsavory enough to unleash her complete fury. She wouldn't go to Dumbledore, but whether or not he'd touched her, she'd get revenge on him as if he had. There was still the matter of him checking her out in the hallway, too; trivial or not, she wasn't going to let that go…

"Hermione? Are you okay?" Ron asked tentatively.

"I'm fine," she said absently. "I was just thinking…" She told them her ideas, and both Snape and Ron agreed. They started to talk about ideas for revenge, which was a lot more awkward with Ron there. Before they could come up with any plan of action, the fireplace flared with green fire and McGonagall's head appeared in the flames.

"Severus!" she said excitedly. "It's just like what we did to Potter and Black! Draco Malfoy is hanging from the Quidditch goalpost in women's underwear!" she said gleefully. She blinked when she caught sight of Hermione and Ron. "I mean… uh… it's horrible! When w-we discover whoever did this, we'll have to—to, um, severely punish them. Most of the school is out there, now, and… we better hurry and see. Er, see if we can discover who did this, of course."

"Right," Snape said dryly. McGonagall's head vanished. "Same old Minerva… you're just like her, Granger. Come on, you two; let's go 'look for the culprit.'"

* * *

Draco screamed in frustration as Granger and Weasley disappeared. He'd been hoping his fake story about what he'd done to her would piss Granger off enough that she would stay on the pitch too long and get caught. Her lame truth spell was utterly useless; he might not be the smartest person in school but he was a Death Eater's son, for crying out loud; resisting mind-altering spells like the Imperius Curse and truth agents had been part of his elementary magical training. He hadn't thought they'd _actually _leave him on the pitch—he'd figured it was an empty threat to get him to confess to the prank, and as such he'd told her what he'd done, then made it sound worse to make her even angrier (though he'd tried not to make it bad enough that they'd kill him). Oh, the look her face… on _Weasley's_ face…

"All right, team," a voice said from the direction of the locker rooms, "let's practice like it's the Quidditch World Cup!"

Oh, no. What was that Weasley had said about the Hufflepuff team practicing soon?

Seven Hufflepuff Quidditch players came into view a few seconds later, catching sight of him almost immediately. They gaped at him for a good long while before all of them burst out laughing in unison.

"I've got to go tell Hannah," Susan Bones gasped, turning towards the castle.

"Wait!" Ernie Macmillan, captain of the Quidditch team, called her back. "We can't just run off and tell our friends, that wouldn't be right!" Draco stared at him in disbelief, and then groaned inwardly as an evil gleam appeared in Macmillan's eyes. "Susan, you go tell _every_ Hufflepuff you see. Eleanor, tell the Ravenclaws. Kevin, you take Gryffindor, and make absolutely _sure_ you tell Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and the Weasleys. Laura, go for the library, Rose, you take the Great Hall, and Zacharias—"

"I'm staying with you," Zacharias Smith interrupted. "This is great! Besides, you don't want anyone to accuse you, and they might if you're standing out here alone."

"All right—hey, and Susan, while you're in the dorms, grab my camera!" Ernie called after the departing Quidditch team.

Draco vowed in that instant that no matter what it took, he would make Granger pay for this, and pay dearly.


	8. No One Messes With A Gryffindor

**Chapter Seven**

_No One Messes With a Gryffindor_

"See you Harry, Ginny!" Seamus Finnigan called.

"Bye, Harry," Dean Thomas said, pointedly ignoring Ginny; his relationship with her had ended rather badly last year, though that was mostly thanks to the overprotective Ron.

"Bye," both of them replied absently. They were rather absorbed in the whispered conversation they'd been having while sitting on the couch together, mostly oblivious to the common room as they discussed what Hermione and Ron were up to.

As Dean and Seamus opened the portrait hole to leave, however, a small Hufflepuff fourth-year boy named Kevin Whitby, who was the Seeker for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team and currently dressed in his yellow Quidditch robes, hurtled inside. "Listen up!" he yelled. The Gryffindors all turned to stare at him in astonishment; few members of other houses had the guts to barge into Gryffindor's common room uninvited, and those that were brave enough were rarely in Hufflepuff. "If any of you are interested, Draco Malfoy is tied up on the Quidditch field in lingerie!"

"What?" several people exclaimed. Half the room ran for the portrait hole and the others ran to the window, trying in vain to see the Quidditch pitch. Harry and Ginny looked appropriately shocked and eager as they rushed for the exit.

"Harry! Ginny!" Kevin called. "Have you seen Hermione and Ron? Ernie told me to tell them."

"They went to the library, Kevin," Ginny told him. "Come on! This is a must-see, don't just stand there!"

By the time the Gryffindors made it to the pitch, virtually every Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff in the school was already there; even some Slytherins had turned up to see. Cameras went off like crazy and laughter and mocking remarks filled the stadium. McGonagall came hurrying over, followed closely by Snape, Ron, and Hermione. "You!" Malfoy shouted, glaring at Hermione. Snape broke the spell that bound Malfoy and tossed his cloak at Malfoy as he fell to the ground.

Snape and McGonagall forced the crowd to disperse, holding Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and Ernie Macmillan (who was Head Boy and, after all, the one who found Malfoy) behind. "It was them," Malfoy snarled, pointing at Hermione and Ron.

"Is that true, Miss Granger?" McGonagall asked in a no-nonsense tone.

Hermione shook her head, but before she could reply, Snape asked, "How long were you out here, Draco?"

"About a half hour, maybe forty-five minutes," Malfoy said. "The two of them used a Portkey about ten minutes before the Hufflepuffs—"

"They've been in my office since a little after noon," Snape interrupted. "Discussing how best to serve detention."

Malfoy blinked. "Then it must have been Potter and the Little Weasel, pretending to be them!" he exclaimed, glaring at Harry and Ginny.

"We've been in the common room since about ten, ten-thirty," Harry snapped. "Ask anyone. Dean and Seamus were leaving the common room when Kevin Whitby came in and told us you were out here. Couldn't resist coming to look." He grinned coldly.

McGonagall shot a knowing glance at Snape. "Any other guesses, Mr. Malfoy?"

Malfoy's eyes widened as he realized what was going on. "It _was_ Granger and Weasley! You're covering for them!" he yelled at Snape.

"The day I cover for Potter and his friends is the day you marry a Muggle-born," Snape said coldly. "They were in my office. Anyone else you'd like to try to frame?"

"Where would we get a Portkey, by the way?" Hermione added. "It's illegal to create an unauthorized one."

"But I bet you know how anyway, you know-it-all Mudblood!" Malfoy shouted.

"Mr. Malfoy, I will not have slurs like that in this school! Ten points from Slytherin! Miss Granger, your wand, if you please?" McGonagall said. Hermione handed it over. _"Priori Incantatem!"_ McGonagall intoned.

Wisps of smoke formed a mockery of the Silencing Charm Hermione had lifted. McGonagall handed Hermione's wand back and both professors fixed Malfoy with calm expressions. "That is most certainly not the spell for creating Portkeys," McGonagall told Malfoy coolly, interrupting him before he could argue. She performed the same spell on Harry, Ron, and Ginny's wands, but none of them had used anything remotely resembling a Portkey spell. "That settles it, Mr. Malfoy. If you didn't get a good look at your attackers—"

"I did, _it was them_!" he insisted. He shot an angry look at Snape, knowing better than to accuse a teacher of casting an illegal spell, especially a teacher like Snape. Snape gave him a quick, evil grin that vanished before McGonagall saw it.

"—then I will talk to the Headmaster about finding other forms of evidence," McGonagall continued calmly, unfazed. "Until then, I suggest you return to your dormitory at once and put on some proper clothes."

"Don't forget to return my cloak," Snape added shortly. Draco glowered at all of them before hurrying off, his usually pale face tinged pink.

They all watched him go, doing their best not to smile. Surprisingly, it was McGonagall who cracked up first.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Ernie stared at her, rather stunned to see the usually prim and proper professor doubled over with laughter. "Oh, that was priceless!" she gasped through her laughter. "Did you see his face?"

Snape smiled. "Wiped the smirk right off him, didn't we?" he said slyly. He, too, started laughing, and Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Ernie, who'd never seen Snape laugh in the seven years they'd known him, edged away cautiously, as though Snape might be dangerous.

"Oh… and twenty points to Gryffindor," McGonagall said. "Five for each of you."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny gulped, horrified that McGonagall had caught them. "For what?" Harry asked, desperately trying to look innocent.

"Come off it, Potter," McGonagall told him, still laughing, tears streaming down her face. "It was I, after all, who helped do the same thing to your father twenty-five years ago."

Hermione sighed, realizing she should have expected McGonagall to figure it out, as they were copycatting a prank involving her and Sirius and James. "Are you going to turn us in?" she asked in a small voice.

"_You_ tied him to the goalpost?" Ernie exclaimed, looking scandalized. He puffed out his chest, so that his Head Boy badge gleamed in the sunlight. "But… but you're Head Girl, Hermione! And you three are prefects!" The four Gryffindors shrugged, smiling guiltily. "You have alibis, too!"

"Alibis can be faked, Macmillan," Snape said coldly. He straightened up and gave Ernie his most threatening look. "And if you tell another soul what you've just learned, you'll wish you'd never heard of Hogwarts, am I clear?"

"Yes, yes, crystal clear," Ernie said quickly, more shocked that Snape was suggesting he was covering for Ron and Hermione than he was afraid of retribution. He turned back to his fellow students. "So… so you…" He trailed off, shaking his head and starting to laugh also. "That was great, you guys! The look on his face when we found him… how did you do it? Where'd you even get the idea for something like that?"

"From… a friend," Hermione said innocently, glancing at Snape out of the corner of her eye.

"A friend?" Ernie repeated, following her gaze and looking at Snape in disbelief. "The whole school's gone mad!"

"Tell me about it," Ron muttered, looking at McGonagall, who was still laughing.

Ernie shook his head. "Thanks for the laugh, guys. This'll go down in Hogwarts history; it's right up there with the Weasley twins escaping that Umbridge beast. Well, I have to go find my Quidditch team and get some practice time in… this was worth cutting into Quidditch practice, though. Well, I'll see you."

"I have to write Sirius," Harry said as Ernie left, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot as he looked at his two strictest professors, now shaking with mirth like deranged hyenas.

"I need to write Fred and George—guess I'll use a school owl, Pig still isn't back from taking my last letter to them," Ron said, watching Snape and McGonagall warily, as though worried their lapse in character was going to develop into something more frightening.

"I've got a letter to send, too; Bill said to fill him in when it was over," Ginny said absently, chuckling at the two laughing professors. "I told him about it when we first started planning."

"I'll come with you," Hermione said. "I expect it'd be a good idea to hide before we get mobbed by people wanting the full story. Though we do need to plan how we're going to top this, that's for sure."

"If all else fails," Harry said mischievously, "I hear some Slytherin or another once helped my mum knock out Remus and leave him naked in the Forbidden Forest."

Snape tried to glare at him but was laughing too hard to get the proper effect. "We need to keep up on our other plan, Granger," Snape called after her as the Gryffindors walked off. "Tomorrow at seven?" Hermione nodded and left with her friends.

McGonagall did her best to get control of herself. "Oh, yes, I'd forgotten about what you and Lily did to Remus," she said, chuckling. "That was excellent, also."

"Yes, it was, wasn't it?" Snape said mildly.

"So… Malfoy said something about a Portkey?" McGonagall said. "Nice touch. We should have thought of that all those years ago."

"It was Granger's idea," Snape said with a shrug.

"What's your other plan, by the way?" McGonagall asked as she and Snape made their way back to the castle.

"I expect you'll find out soon enough," Snape said ruefully.

"Come now, Severus, you can trust me!" McGonagall pleaded.

"I know, but the other prank we're working on is hideously embarrassing," Snape replied with a shudder.

"Ooh, you _have_ to tell me now," McGonagall insisted. "More embarrassing than what Mr. Malfoy just went through?"

"In my book, yes," Snape said, "though I can't say I've ever had the pleasure of being tied to a goalpost in Granger's underwear."

McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "Fine, I'll find out myself."

Snape winced at the idea of McGonagall happening upon one of his faked conversations with Hermione. Oh, boy.

Still, as he and McGonagall approached the castle, he couldn't help smiling again. He hadn't had so much fun since his own days at Hogwarts, before the Death Eaters had convinced him to join them. He felt… alive, in a strange sort of way, as though he were back in school and working out how to take James Potter down a notch. Suddenly, he found himself wondering what he would have done if it hadn't been for the Dark Lord—if he would have found a wife and had a family and maybe even gotten a job other than teaching idiot children, wondering if he would have gotten over his rotten childhood and become happy.

"What do you think I would have done if the first war had never happened, Minerva?" he blurted out.

McGonagall raised her eyebrows at him. "Why?"

He shrugged. "Just curious."

She gave him a shrewd look, seeing right through the casual demeanor. "Well, Severus, I doubt you'd have taught here," she said thoughtfully. Snape was a pureblood, and had inherited a fortune almost as large as Lucius Malfoy had; he had become a teacher when he had turned spy for Dumbledore. Maybe, in the beginning, he'd entertained the notion of being considered a good teacher or being respected, but that had passed as he grew more and more unhappy and bitter because of the war. "I don't know," McGonagall went on, "I suppose you would have moved on, lived a normal life."

Snape nodded. "I suppose so."

McGonagall glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "You know, Severus, it's not too late. It's never too late."

Snape snorted at the cliché, but he couldn't help hoping she was right.

* * *

By the time Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny made it back to the castle, the entire school was buzzing with the story. When they entered the common room, nearly every Gryffindor was there, applauding and cheering.

"Oh, what the hell," Hermione muttered, and climbed onto a table, grinning her head off. She bowed to the common room with a flourish. "Thank you, thank you!" she called over the noise. "Let it be known throughout Hogwarts that _no one messes with a Gryffindor_!"

Harry, Ron, and Ginny laughed, Ron climbing up next to Hermione and Harry and Ginny following suit on another table. "And there's plenty more where that came from!" Ron shouted.

"Close the bets!" Ginny yelled. "Nothing will top this, I guarantee it!"

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were regarded as heroes after they unofficially claimed responsibility for the prank; several people gave them pictures taken of Malfoy hanging from the goalpost, calling the photos both souvenirs and thank-you gifts. The majority of the students who'd betted on whether or not Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny would have the best prank went ahead and cashed in, not caring in the slightest that the year wasn't even half over and the prank war was far from finished.

The next day, Hermione once again headed to Snape's office after dinner, with a very sour, furious Draco Malfoy following discreetly. Harry and Ron had both protested her going to the dungeon alone now that Malfoy was likely to be murderous, but she'd pointed out that Harry and Ron weren't supposed to know she was going down there. It would be even more dangerous for her to take Ginny and have Ginny stand outside Snape's door alone and wait, where Malfoy could sneak up on her and Hermione would be unable to hear if he did, thanks to the Silencing Charms she and Snape used. Hermione doubted Malfoy would ambush her, for the simple fact that Malfoy would figure Snape was expecting her and would realize that Snape might come looking for her if she didn't show. Plus it was too risky, so soon after he'd just accused them all of performing a prank; if Hermione ended up cursed, it wouldn't be too difficult to pin it on Malfoy. Malfoy would not only know that, but would assume Snape might try to frame him or set him up if something happened to Snape's "lover." As far as walking back from Snape's office, however, she had agreed to meet up with Harry in the entrance hall two hours after dinner officially ended, just to make certain Malfoy wasn't going to attack her as she left. The office was close enough to the entrance hall that Malfoy wouldn't hurt her before she reached it, for fear Snape might overhear. So unless Malfoy was stupid enough to get caught, she was covered either way.

Still, that didn't prevent her from being nervous at the idea that Draco Malfoy—a Death Eater's son with an extensive background in the Dark Arts—was very angry and following her, which gave him a clear shot at her back. She increased her speed as she took the stairs to the dungeon and practically ran along the corridor, anxious to get in the office before Malfoy decided he didn't give a damn if he got caught as long as she got hurt.

Snape called "Come in" a split-second after she started knocking, and she rushed inside and shut the door hurriedly behind her. "Is something wrong, Miss Granger?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head, mouthed "Later," and smiled, jerking her head at the door to let Snape know Malfoy was behind her again. "I just missed you," she said, grinning at the thought of what Malfoy would be thinking right now.

"You're late again," Snape remarked.

"I'm terribly sorry," she gushed. "Harry and Ron think I'm in the library, but it still makes them suspicious when I just start running off."

"Make sure your tardiness doesn't become a habit," Snape said. A fiendish grin appeared on his face. "Or I shall have to give you a detention," he added, and then cracked up, muffling his laughter with his hand.

Hermione gaped at him, biting back a giggle. "You could give me one anyway," she said in as sultry a voice as she could manage while desperately wanting to laugh.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Snape said, trying his best to keep his voice even.

"Don't I always?" she said innocently.

Snape decided now would be a good time to cast the Silencing Charm. Before he could, however, a loud retching noise sounded in the hallway. Quickly shucking off his robe and unbuttoning a few shirt buttons, he strode past Hermione and opened the door.

Draco Malfoy was a few feet away, his hands braced on his knees as he puked violently on the stone floor. Snape wrinkled his noise and waited for the vomiting to stop before casting a Vanishing Spell and fixing Malfoy with a cold stare. "I suggest you go see Madam Pomfrey, Draco," he said coolly before going back inside the office, casting a Silencing Charm and bursting into peals of laughter.

"Was he throwing up?" Hermione exclaimed.

"Yes," Snape laughed. "Hard, too. Oh, this is fun. Wait, you never told me what he thought of your neck."

Hermione frowned and told him the story. "I was beyond pissed off about it," she said. "Talk about sick."

"Well, he's a boy. Boys do that," Snape said. "I know you find it disgusting… but try to take it in stride and add it to your 'Reasons I'm going to get him if it's the last thing I do' list."

Hermione nodded. "Yeah. Well, I better get going. Harry and Ron are waiting for me in the entrance hall—you know, making sure Malfoy doesn't hit me."

Snape frowned. "Maybe I should walk with you."

She shook her head. "No, if Harry and Ron saw you, it could screw things up."

"All right, then. Well, until next time."

Hermione nodded and left, heading back up to the entrance hall at high speed, her fear of Malfoy keeping her from thinking about anything else.

Harry and Ron were waiting at the top of the stairs. When they saw her, both of them stared in shock, their eyes widening. She stopped, confused. "What's going on, guys?" she asked.

Harry swallowed hard, his face reddening as he turned his back to her. "Um, 'Mione? Where are your clothes?"

Hermione looked down. She was wearing nothing but a black lace bra and thong.


	9. Nuclear War

**Chapter Eight**

_Nuclear War_

Ginny was watching the portrait hole eagerly, waiting for her friends to come back after the latest rendezvous with Snape. At last, Ron walked in—alone.

Ginny frowned as her brother approached. "What's wrong?" she asked. "Where's Hermione? And Harry?"

Ron cringed. "Uh, we had a slight problem." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Grab some clothes of hers as discreetly as you can and meet us in the Room of Requirement."

Less than ten minutes later, Ginny arrived, carrying a change of clothes. Hermione was absolutely livid; she was pacing around in Harry's robe, which was so large on Hermione that the shoulders slipped down and made it obvious that Hermione was wearing no shirt beneath it.

"Uh-oh," Ginny said, wincing. "What happened?"

"Malfoy must've got her as she was leaving Snape's," Ron explained.

"Gee, do you think?" Hermione snarled. "I can't believe I didn't notice. I could have been seen by anyone in the school… by _everyone_ in the school—"

"What did he do?" Ginny asked.

Hermione opened Harry's robe in front, revealing the bra and thong she'd put on Malfoy. "It's an illusion spell," Hermione growled. "It lasts for about three hours."

"Well, at least your clothes will come back," Ron said.

"And your wand," Harry added. All four of them had gotten special arm cuffs during the last Hogsmeade weekend; the cuff sent their wand shooting into their hand with a flick of their wrist, and had protective spells built in so that the wand could not be damaged in any way or removed by anyone other than the owner. Hermione's arm cuff had also been affected by Malfoy's spell. "Look on the bright side—at least you made him puke."

Hermione sighed as she closed up the robe. "Well, I guess it's the Forbidden Forest for Malfoy," Hermione said grimly.

"Of course it is," Ginny said soothingly, handing over the outfit she'd brought to Hermione. "We'll take him real deep in, too."

"Can we put him near Aragog?" Ron asked hopefully. "I'd love it if Malfoy was eaten by a giant spider." Harry and Ginny laughed.

Hermione's mouth twitched until she finally let herself giggle. "A small part of me says no," she said. "The rest of me says 'hell yeah!'"

"The small part of you is an idiot," Ginny said firmly.

"The small part of me is my logical part, actually," Hermione said as she slipped on the extra clothes and the three of them headed back toward the common room. "It says that Malfoy will retaliate with something major if we do something like that."

"Malfoy will retaliate no matter what we do," Harry pointed out.

Hermione nodded slowly. "Yeah, I know. I just… well. Part of me knows that the further I take this, the more likely it is I'll eventually end up in Azkaban for strangling him."

"Don't be ridiculous," Ron said. "You'd never be put in Azkaban. You'd be commended."

"And even if they tried to take you away, we'd help you escape," Ginny said brightly.

"Of course. But then, if you started strangling Malfoy, the rest of us would probably join in," Harry said. "I mean, if one of us gets to kill him, we all do. So we'd have to go on the run with you."

Hermione laughed. "Well, you better ask Sirius for tips on hiding from dementors, then," she said. "Because I'm going to make him _suffer."_

* * *

The school was in total chaos.

Most of the time, the prank war was not incredibly large. This time, however, it had gone nuclear, as there was increased tension between Slytherin and the rest of the houses. This was mostly because of the war against Voldemort and Harry's presence at Hogwarts; many Slytherins had lost parents to death or imprisonment in the final battles between Voldemort and the Order of the Phoenix, and many students, from every house, had lost relatives to Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Then, too, there was the fact that, thanks to the large and elaborate pranks that had already happened, far more people wanted in on the fun… the fun that sent dozens of people to the hospital wing each day. Almost every class that Snape, McGonagall, or Flitwick taught was interrupted by someone coming in requesting an antidote or counter curse, as per the teacher's specialty. Few students in seventh year—and almost as few in some of the years below—didn't find themselves disfigured, discolored, covered in slime, or otherwise victimized by a prank.

In between the major league pranks, minor practical jokes were frequent and annoying. In the same day, Harry sprouted a tail; Ron somehow ended up with a butt so large he couldn't walk; Ginny was turned Slytherin green and silver; and Hermione was hit with a charm that made her hair frizz out into an afro extending four feet from her head. All over Hogwarts, classes were missed, detention was given, and the house points were dropping at an alarming rate.

After Malfoy's illusion spell on her clothes wore off, Hermione eventually calmed down enough to realize that the Forbidden Forest was, in fact, their best idea. So they decided to save it for a good, long while.

Instead of waking up in the Forbidden Forest, Malfoy—and Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson for good measure—woke up levitating over the lake, their clothes and entire bodies painted with red and gold stripes, where they screamed hysterically at the sight of the amused giant squid poking at them from below with its tentacles. It was obviously a Gryffindor prank—and it was beyond obvious that Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny had done it—and in years past, the Slytherin Head of House would have given them detentions and docked points as punishment.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny received quite a few souvenir pictures from other students and twenty points to Gryffindor from McGonagall.

Malfoy's response wasn't bad, compared to some of the other pranks. The backs of Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny's clothing were hit by a Vanishing Spell, which unfortunately meant that the front of their clothing didn't want to stay up. They were all forced to wrap the front of their robes around them like they would towels after a shower and seek out Professor Flitwick, who had to stop a second-year Charms class to restore their clothes.

The four Gryffindors had to get Snape's help to retaliate; they transfigured a pair of water goblets into two male chimpanzees, then Stunned them to keep them quiet as Snape went into the Slytherin dormitory and put one in the seventh year girls' bedroom and one in the boys. When the seventh year Slytherins discovered the chimps, they were immediately hit with large amounts of chimp feces, and no small amount of jokes were made in the days following about the fact that one chimp had tried to hump both Pansy and Millicent Bulstrode. The cleaning of the Slytherin dormitory took hours and Malfoy was treated for a nasty bite on one arm.

Malfoy's revenge was sure to include nothing less than pure, undiluted horror; the idea that Malfoy would use a repeated phrase spell was laughable. Therefore, no one expected it.

One week after the chimp incident, Hermione was sitting in the Great Hall for dinner next to Harry and across from Ron; surrounding them were their fellow Gryffindor seventh-year students and a few girls in Ginny's year. Hermione turned to Harry and said, "Pass the salt, Harry," just after Malfoy, seeing her about to speak to Harry, hit her with the spell.

So everyone but Hermione heard "Do you want to want to have sex in the library?"

Dean, Seamus, Lavender, Parvati, Neville and Ginny's roommates, the only ones sitting close enough to hear, stopped what they were doing and stared at her in shock as Ron's neck and ears went red.

"Um… wha… what?" Harry choked out.

"Pass the salt, Harry," Hermione repeated, not noticing or hearing anything strange.

"Do you want to have sex in the library?" was what Harry, Ron, and the others heard.

"Er… Hermione…"

"Would you stop staring at me like that and hand me the damn salt?" Hermione said, exasperated.

"Do you want to have sex in the library!" Hermione demanded. Harry swallowed and looked at Ron; now she sounded annoyed that Harry wasn't giving her an answer. Ron looked ready to explode with fury.

"Why, hello, Granger," Malfoy said, having come over to stand behind her, smirking down at her. "Feeling all right?"

"Go away, Malfoy," Hermione said coldly, narrowing her eyes at him. To Harry and Ron, her expression made it seem like she was looking at Malfoy appraisingly before asking him to have sex.

"Maybe some other time, Granger," Malfoy said, laughing.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!" Ron bellowed at Hermione, so suddenly that everyone in the vicinity jumped.

"What's wrong with you, Ron?" Hermione said in confusion, wondering why he was angry that she'd told Malfoy to go away. To everyone watching, it looked as though Hermione had propositioned Ron uncertainly, as if she was sure he wouldn't want to, at least not as much as Harry or Malfoy would. Harry took one look at Malfoy's face and understood.

"It's a repeated phrase spell, Ron, Malfoy must have hit her with it," Harry hissed quietly, not wanting anyone to overhear; hopefully he and Ron could get Hermione to the hospital wing before anyone figured out what Malfoy had done.

Hermione didn't catch everything Harry said; all she could hear was "Malfoy must have hit her with it" and, assuming Malfoy had pulled some prank on her that she couldn't see yet, she stood up and glared at Malfoy angrily.

"I'LL MAKE YOU PAY FOR THIS, MALFOY!" she screamed, fed up with his antics.

Clangs and loud clattering noises sounded throughout the hall as goblets and silverware were dropped; people froze in mid-bite or with food or drink halfway to their mouths.

Hermione stopped just before drawing her wand, wondering why there was complete and utter silence in the Great Hall. No one was moving. At the staff table, the teachers were too shocked to react. Harry winced and put his face in his hands. Ron was utterly mortified and looked ready to faint.

Hermione had just—loudly—asked Malfoy to have sex.

"We'll get you for this, Malfoy!" Harry snarled, finally regaining his senses and jumping to his feet, grabbing Hermione's arm.

"What are you mad at me for, Potter?" Malfoy retorted, smirking. "Granger's the one who wants to have sex, not me." Hermione's jaw dropped, unable to believe what he had just suggested, oblivious about what she had said. "Although, now that I think about it…" Malfoy went on, grinning at the furious Ron.

"Hermione, come on, we'll get you to the hospital wing," Harry said; he had half a mind to curse Malfoy into oblivion, and probably would have, teachers' presence be damned, but he knew that he had to get Ron out of there, fast. Seeing Hermione about to protest, he clamped a hand over her mouth and half-dragged her out of the hall, Ron following quickly.

"I knew books weren't the only reason she spent so much time in the library!" Malfoy called after them, cackling madly as he went back to his seat.

Hermione kept trying to talk through Harry's hand as he pulled her out of the hall and up the stairs. "Hermione, listen, you've been hit with a repeated phrase spell," Harry told her. "Don't talk, okay? Someone might hear." Hermione nodded and Harry released her. She followed him to the hospital wing in silence, wondering what she'd been repeating, and for how long.

"Oh, dear, what happened to you lot now?" Madam Pomfrey said irritably. Harry, Ron and Hermione had visited the hospital wing so much over the years that Pomfrey was starting to feel as if the infirmary was their real dormitory, and with the prank war she'd been seeing them even more.

Hermione opened her mouth without thinking. "Malfoy cast a repeated—"

Madam Pomfrey's eyes widened at Hermione's words. "Well, Miss Granger, either there's something I don't know about you, or you've been hit with a speech repetition charm."

"I think it's been altered," Harry said. "She doesn't know what she's saying."

"Obviously not, or she wouldn't continue to speak," Madam Pomfrey said dryly.

"What am I saying, Harry?" Hermione said worriedly, but of course, all Harry heard was another plea for sex.

"Lay down over there, Granger, I've got to go talk to Professor Dumbledore," Madam Pomfrey said wearily. "He might have an idea of what happened to the spell."

Hermione sighed and lay down on a hospital cot, Harry and Ron sitting on either side of her, carefully avoiding each other's eyes; now that the public humiliation part was over, it was all starting to seem slightly funny.

"Don't you two dare start laughing," Hermione snapped dangerously.

Both of them let out little snorts of laughter at how angry a proposition to have sex in the library could sound, but they managed to hold the majority of their mirth in.


	10. Why One Should Never Feed an Owl

**Chapter Nine**

_Why One Should Never Give an Owl Canary Creams_

After a few minutes of waiting for Madam Pomfrey to come back, they heard voices in the hall and looked up, hoping she'd returned with Dumbledore. They received quite a shock when the Weasley twins walked in instead.

"Fred, George!" Harry said, surprised but pleased. "How've you been?"

"Hey, guys," George said. "All right, you?"

"We're hanging in there," Ron muttered, giving Hermione a quick glance.

"What just happened in the Great Hall, guys?" Fred asked eagerly. "Everyone was all stunned silence or whispers or laughing Slytherins. Neville told us you were up here."

"Um…" Harry said, trying to think fast.

"Why didn't you two answer my letter?" Ron asked, quickly changing the subject. "I was beginning to think something had happened to Pig."

"Right, about that…" Fred said guiltily.

Hermione looked from Fred to George and back to Fred. Forgetting the spell, she asked, "What have you two done now?"

Harry and Ron froze, cringing. George stared at Hermione in disbelief, and Fred looked like it would have been less shocking to sneak up and hit him with a cinderblock. Before Harry or Ron could explain, Fred recovered from his surprise and grinned mischievously.

"Sure, Hermione," he told her, "I'd love to have sex with you. Of course, I always figured you'd prefer beds, but if you'd rather do it in the library… well, who am I to argue?"

All the color drained from Hermione's face. She looked over at Harry in terror, who nodded, confirming her worst fears by turning to the twins and saying, "Er… guys, Malfoy cast a spell on her. 'Do you want to have sex in the library' is all she can say."

"Damn," Fred said, not the least bit embarrassed (as opposed to Hermione, who was turning Gryffindor scarlet), "knew I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up."

"Shut up, Fred," Ron snapped as George snickered.

"Anyway, why didn't you write us back?" Harry asked Fred and George, trying to head off an argument between the twins and Ron and trying to take the focus off Hermione, who looked like she wanted to feed herself to a manticore.

"Oh, well, see, we wanted to—" Fred began.

"We have lots of good ideas, you see—" George said.

"But when Pig arrived, we were trying to convince someone to taste a Canary Cream—"

"And the idiotic excuse for an owl swooped down and ate it," George finished.

"So?" Harry said suspiciously.

"Well, Canary Creams aren't meant for owls, they're meant for humans," Fred explained.

"It caused a few… side effects," George added carefully.

_"What the hell have you done to my owl?"_ Ron shouted.

"We didn't do anything!" George said in alarm. "He's the one who ate it, and as far as we can tell, he's fine—"

"Shouldn't he have molted by now?" Harry said worriedly.

"If he was human, he would have," George said sadly.

"But as he's an owl, he's been in our shop ever since it happened," Fred said. "It's been a real killer for business, he's enormous, almost as tall as Hagrid, and you know how hyper he is—"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Ron demanded.

"We had no way of sending you a letter, did we?" Fred said. "We've been really busy, and we gave our owl to Mum since Errol's useless. And the post office in Diagon Alley has been in shambles ever since that one Death Eater attack, they still haven't rebuilt it—"

"How long would it have taken you to Apparate to Hogsmeade and run up here?" Ron asked angrily.

"What could you have done? It would have just upset you," George said, though no one bought his brotherly tone. "Even if we thought it would have done any good to come tell you, it's not a good idea to leave the store too often when there's a hyperactive canary the size of a baby whale in it."

"Why didn't you bring him back!" Ron yelled.

"What were we supposed to do, Ron? Teach him to Apparate? Try shoving him in the fireplace to use the Floo Network?"

"We actually did try that one, but it didn't work… but now we're having a bigger fireplace installed next month, just in case."

"Anyway, we had to wait for the Ministry to approve a Portkey."

"And that took a _month?"_ Ron demanded.

"Hey, _you _try explaining to the Department of Magical Transportation that you need a Portkey to take a seven-foot-tall canary to Hogwarts!" Fred replied indignantly. "Not very many people will automatically approve something like that, you know!"

"They actually sent the Department of Magical Law Enforcement over to see if we were trying to obtain a Portkey illegally," George added. "Mind you, once they heard Pig squawking at them all happily they called for reinforcements, thinking it was a trap and we were trying to ambush them with a herd of hippogriffs."

"We spent the night in a holding cell for that one, you know," Fred said irritably. "We explained at the arraignment, but they still wanted a full investigation and everything. Once they stopped laughing, that is. They couldn't understand why we'd have a giant bird and why we'd want to take it to Hogwarts."

"So now we owe Bill money for posting bail," George continued with a sigh. "And we almost got in deep shit for violating the Ban on Experimental Breeding, they were sure that's how we'd done it."

"Plus we had to halt our inventing to figure out what to do," Fred said sulkily. "We thought about shrinking him, but we were worried that eventually he'd turn back into an owl and be too small to ever see again."

"Will you two ever go more than three minutes without being complete whack jobs?" Hermione said to Fred in exasperation… just as Ginny walked in.

"Um…" Ginny said, glancing from Hermione to Fred in confusion. "I'm not asking."

"It's a repeated phrase spell," Harry told her. "So far she's asked me, Ron, Malfoy, Madam Pomfrey, and Fred to have sex."

"MALFOY?" Ginny exclaimed. "Oh, no—"

"It was really bad," Hermione moaned.

Ginny blinked. "Okay, Hermione, you know I love you, but there is nothing creepier than you looking at me and asking me to sleep with you in the library."

Hermione cringed and Harry patted her knee comfortingly. "Anyway," Ginny said, "my friends said you guys brought Hermione here… they said it was something about Malfoy, but they didn't really want to say what…"

Hermione sighed pitifully; Harry leaned over to give her a quick hug.

"Don't worry, Hermione, we'll get him for this," Harry told her.

"Yeah, and now you have us for suggestions," Fred added.

"And if worse comes to worse, I hear Hagrid's got a giant canary we can sick on Malfoy," George said cheerfully. Ron glared at him.

"So," Fred went on, "tell us all about Hermione waking up naked next to Snape."

* * *

Hermione fumed silently throughout the search for her cure; by the time she got it, her anger with Ron had reached the breaking point.

"HOW could you tell THEM about that!" were the first words out of her mouth when she could finally say something other than the repeating phrase.

"I wanted them to know how serious it was," Ron whined.

"So you told them _that!"_

Hermione screamed at Ron all the way back to Gryffindor tower, while Harry and Ginny tried to calm her down with Fred and George following and laughing hysterically. Hermione finally stopped when they reached the portrait hole (only because the rest of the school didn't know about Malfoy's first prank; she was still plenty mad) and stormed up to her dormitory, Ginny following to do damage control.

"Mental, that one," George said in reference to Hermione.

"This is all your fault," Ron snapped at Fred.

"Hey, how was I supposed to know that you don't want her to know that I know what you know?" Fred said reasonably.

"What?" George said blankly.

"First you turn my owl into a canary and then you piss off my girlfriend!" Ron yelled.

"Ron, it's been a long day," Harry said wearily; it was now almost midnight, and they'd spent the entire day in the hospital wing. "Hermione will calm down, okay? She was just pissed off about accidentally hitting on Malfoy in front of the entire school."

"Yeah, I can't see where she'd be upset by that," George deadpanned.

"Let's just discuss ideas for the war," Harry continued. "Hermione will be fine come morning."

The Weasley twins had such incredible ideas that Harry and Ron eventually started taking notes; one and a half rolls of parchment and two and a half hours later, they had enough ideas to keep Malfoy down for about three years. The twins left around two in the morning, and Harry and Ron went upstairs to sleep, both of them anxious for the next day.

Hermione did calm down by the morning, as Harry had predicted, but Parvati and Lavender made a few rude comments about the library to Hermione and she refused to go into the Great Hall for breakfast; Harry, Ron, and Ginny grabbed a bunch of food and headed out onto the grounds to discuss their news ideas from Fred and George. By the time they split up for classes, Harry, Ron and Hermione to Care of Magical Creatures and Ginny to Herbology, they had decided to wait until Sunday to pull their next prank on Malfoy, as the first Quidditch match, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, was on Saturday.

Unfortunately, the prank war had to be put on hold after the match, as Harry, angry at Crabbe for hitting Ginny with a Bludger, had retaliated by grabbing a Gryffindor Beater's bat and whacking a Bludger straight into Crabbe's gut. The force of the Bludger knocked Crabbe right off the end of his broom… and onto Malfoy, whose Nimbus 2001 wasn't able to hold the extra weight. The two of them went crashing to the ground some forty feet below, and between the impact and the crushing of Malfoy's bones from Crabbe landing on top of him, Malfoy got stuck in the hospital wing.

Harry's week of detention was well worth it; the only real upset was that Ginny had to share the hospital wing with Malfoy and Crabbe overnight, but Malfoy was still unconscious and Crabbe was too stupid to engage in any verbal sparring matches. It took Malfoy six days to regain consciousness, and three more weeks before he could be released; when Pomfrey finally let him go, it was mid-December. Before the Gryffindors could get started again, however, the prank war was thrown for a major loop.

It was a Friday, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione were on their way back from the hospital wing, where they'd all been having scales removed from their faces and arms, when they noticed a large crowd in the entrance hall. The three of them hurried forward; it was something akin to when Umbridge had fired Trelawney or when Fred and George had escaped Hogwarts. Students had formed a large circle, and in the center were two people Harry, Ron and Hermione couldn't see, shouting at one another.

Even as Harry, Ron, and Hermione pushed through the throng of students for a better look, the two people in the middle of the circle began yelling loud enough for them to hear over the whispers and laughter of the crowd.

"You're so pathetic!" Ginny shouted.

"You're such a bitch!" Dean Thomas shouted back.

Ron, who was almost to the front of the students, went very still. Then he surged forward with a bellow that could have scared a troll.

Harry and Hermione had both become rather used to this sort of thing; over the past few years, it had become even more of a problem, as Ron had gotten taller and stronger and harder to stop. Even as other students leaped out of Ron's way in shock and fear, Harry and Hermione leaped at him. Hermione jumped on Ron's back and wrapped her legs around him, slowing him down long enough for Harry to get in front of him and hold him back.

Dean was beyond startled at Ron's abrupt appearance—well, that wasn't surprising, really, few people _weren't_ startled when a six-foot-two, muscular guy came running at them with a girl riding his back and another guy in front looking like he was trying to stop a freight train.

However, Dean recovered quickly. Seeing Ron was stopped for the moment, Dean turned back to Ginny with a scowl.

"Oh, look," he snarled. "Big brother's here to stick his huge ugly nose in where it doesn't belong."

"You shut your mouth about my brother," Ginny said contemptuously.

"Why should I? All he ever does is nose around, him and the rest of your stupid brothers, running around and snorting like bulls," Dean shot back.

"Don't start in on my brothers!" Ginny shouted. "You're the one who wouldn't stand up to Ron! Stop acting like _Ron_ ended our relationship! News flash—I didn't dump you because Ron's overprotective, I dumped you because you're a prick!"

"No, you dumped me so you could go whore around with other guys!" Dean roared.

Harry dug in his heels as Ron surged forward again. Slowly, Harry was inched forward towards Dean and Ginny, but neither of them was paying attention to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Both had drawn their wands.

_"Callistiaro!"_ Ginny screamed.

_"Montreavi!"_ Dean yelled at the same time.

Green light met blue, and fused into a bright golden ball of energy. It was a rare thing in a duel; few cases had occurred throughout history. A new spell was formed, and it would become a battle of wills, of wands, not unlike Harry's battle with Voldemort in his fourth year, to see who would escape the spells' effects and who would be hit by them.

Dean caved first; his arm buckled and he decided to cut his losses and run, diving to the side in an attempt to get out of the path of the spell. Unfortunately, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been right behind him.

The energy ball hit Hermione with enough force to knock her off of Ron, and she went flying back into the crowd… straight into Draco Malfoy, who'd been watching the fight with interest…

* * *

_End Notes:_ This chapter is where I got the idea for my spin-off fic, which has the same title as this chapter. Well, review if you'd like to; I'm working on getting everything back up, guys. Sorry for the wait. 


	11. Dumbledore's Assistance

_Author's Notes:_ I'd like to apologize again for the excruciatingly long time between updates. I'd also like to remind everyone that NOTHING that happened in Half-Blood Prince is being used in this story. No revelations about Snape being an evil half-blood. No mention of what happened during the summer after fifth year. And Sirius is still alive; for the purposes of this fic, he did not die in Order of the Phoenix. I would, however, like to point out that Half-Blood Prince's characterization of Hermione is more in tune with how I've always seen Hermione. Hermione didn't change in HBP; it's just that the darker, less moral sides of her character weren't as subtly written. I've written a huge rant about that on my livejournal, the link to which is in my bio. Once again, sorry for the wait, and thanks to those of you who reviewed!

_Side Note:_ This story had been nominated for a Reader's Choice Award in the romance category on Hogwarts: The Forum, the link to which can be found through the profile of FaTcAtInAhAt. It's a wonderful site, too, by the way; I recommend it. Anyway, huge thanks to her!

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

_Dumbledore's Assistance_

The smirk faded from Malfoy's face as Hermione came flying at him, hitting him hard in the stomach and knocking him down. People scrambled over to them to check on either Malfoy or Hermione, including Harry, Ron, and Ginny.

"Mione! Are you okay?" Ginny exclaimed as she rushed over, Harry and Ron on her heels, Dean completely forgotten.

"What is the meaning of this!" a cold voice shouted from the direction of the dungeon entrance.

"It's Snape!" someone yelled.

"RUN!" another person screamed.

The spectators scattered like pigeons avoiding a speeding car; even the Slytherins were quick to exit, knowing that Snape's vendetta against Malfoy had recently put Slytherins in a less than favorable light in his eyes. Within seconds, the only people left in the entrance hall were Snape, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Malfoy.

Hermione sat up (on Malfoy's legs, not that she cared) and looked around, rather dazed. "Ouch," she murmured. Her eyes narrowed and she looked around for Dean, but he had already fled the scene.

She struggled to her feet—and was pulled back down again by a thin gold chain, which was attached to her left wrist by a cuff like a slender manacle. It was tight and less than half an inch thick, and a similar cuff was fastened to Malfoy's right wrist.

"Oh, no," she breathed, alarmed. She pointed her wand at the chain. _"Finite! Reducto! Diffindo!"_ she yelled. She, Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Draco all began shouting spells at the chain, attempting to break it, but to no avail.

"Step aside," Snape barked at Harry, Ron and Ginny. "Let me see."

Snape crouched down next to Hermione, who was kneeling on the floor next to a terrified Malfoy. Snape picked up the chain and examined it closely, then tapped it with his wand, saying an incantation for a spell that would command it to reveal its secrets.

Nothing happened.

"This can't be good," Ron said slowly.

"Gee, Weasel, do you think?" Malfoy snapped. "Professor…" He stopped, uncertain if Snape would help him or not.

"What do we do?" Hermione asked Snape fearfully.

"Don't worry, Miss Granger," Snape said, fighting the urge to laugh at the disgusted look that appeared on Malfoy's face. "We'll go see the headmaster."

* * *

"Dumbledore can fix this. Dumbledore can fix this," Hermione kept repeating as she followed her professor and her friends to Dumbledore's office. Hermione and Malfoy were walking as far apart as possible—roughly nine feet, five for the chain, two for her arm and two for his.

"If I want to hear you repeat something, I'll use a spell, Mudblood," Draco hissed. No one else heard him—including Hermione, who continued to chant the same line.

"Hermione, it'll be okay," Ron said as they approached the gargoyle guarding the office entrance.

Hermione seemed to snap out of a trance. She lunged forward and grabbed the front of Ron's robes, staring up at him with a wild look on her face. Draco stumbled from being jerked towards Ron and had to take a second to steady himself.

"What if Dumbledore _can't_ fix it?" Hermione demanded breathlessly, panicked. "What if he can't get it off? What if I have to stay like this forever? _There's no key,_ Ron! There's not even a _keyhole!_ What'll I do? What'll I do? I'll have to stay chained to Draco forever! How will I bathe? How will I study? How will I date or get married or apply for jobs or do the normal life things? How will I help you save the world? Oh, god, what will I _do!"_

Ron, who wasn't very good with emotion (or with strange outbursts from the sanest of them all), looked at Harry for help. Harry, however, knew all too well that, contrary to popular opinion, Dumbledore was human, and there were some things even Dumbledore couldn't do; he was just as worried as Hermione (even if he hadn't thought so far ahead about the horrible possibilities). As Harry wracked his brains for something comforting to say, Ginny stepped forward.

"Hermione," she said seriously, her face perfectly straight, "if we can't figure out how to get the chain off, then we'll just cut off Malfoy's arm, okay?"

Hermione was so far beyond rational thinking by this point that Ginny's statement cheered her greatly, instead of making her laugh. _Of course, we'll just cut off his arm, and then I'll be free,_ she thought in relief. She smiled weakly, released Ron, and stepped onto the spiral staircase, only slightly less worried but definitely more hopeful.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Draco, and Snape filed into the headmaster's office, sitting down in front of his desk in conjured armchairs. Dumbledore was seated behind his desk with a calm, composed nature, as if he didn't notice how unusual it was to see the six people together or he didn't see the chain dangling between Hermione and Draco.

"Might I ask what happened?" Dumbledore said to Snape calmly.

"There was a duel, from what I can tell," Snape said, "and Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy were hit by a combined curse."

"Did you happen to get a good look at the duelers?" Dumbledore asked with a small smile.

"No, headmaster," Snape said, trying not to smirk at Draco's furious expression, which was worth letting Dean Thomas off the hook.

"Can you fix it, Professor?" Draco asked impatiently, knowing it would be fruitless to contradict Snape.

"No," Dumbledore said in an infuriatingly calm tone. "I'm afraid not."

"Albus!" Snape growled in an angry, exasperated tone. The Gryffindors all turned to look at him curiously, but before anyone could ask what Snape meant, Draco started yelling.

"What do you mean, 'you're afraid not'?" Draco burst out in a near-hysterical tone. "You have to get it off! You _have_ to! What happened to all that 'greatest wizard in the world' crap! I'm chained to Granger here! FIX IT!"

"There has to be something we can do!" Hermione exclaimed, even more worked up and on the verge of tears.

"I will do what I can," Dumbledore assured her. "I will search for a solution; it will take a lot of hard work, but I'm sure we can eventually—"

"EVENTUALLY?" Ron exploded, jumping up. "How long is _eventually?_ They can't stay like that! What, are they going to go to the bathroom together? Share a room? He could kill her in her sleep!"

"Shut up, Ron," Harry snarled.

Everyone turned to look at him, shocked. "Excuse me?" Ron growled. "How can you take _Malfoy's_ side!"

Draco stared at Harry, wondering the same thing—and then he saw the furtive glance

Harry gave Hermione, who looked suddenly horrified and scared. Of course, Harry wasn't sticking up for Draco; he'd just been trying to sooth Hermione's nerves, which Ron's rant had expounded.

"I'm not taking anyone's side," Harry replied in exasperation. "I'm just trying to stay calm."

Ron would have none of it. "Calm? How can you be calm when Hermione's chained to a Death Eater?" Ron roared.

"SHUT UP!"

Draco was on his feet with his wand raised at Ron before he knew what he was doing. He was shaking, his eyes wide with rage, his face flushed. He longed to use the Cruciatus on Ron, to make him _suffer._ Blind fury was clouding his vision; he couldn't see anything but Weasley's startled face, couldn't hear, couldn't think…

He felt a hand on his shoulder, squeezing comfortingly. "Draco," Snape murmured. "Draco, it's okay…"

Draco felt himself cooling down, as though he was literally being submerged in ice water. Snape was standing beside him, giving him an understanding look. Snape was there for him, prank war or not. Snape understood. Snape knew what it was like, even more than Draco did…

"I knew it," Ron spat at Snape and Draco. "You're both murdering scum."

The incantation for a vile curse was half-formed on Draco's lips when Snape suddenly lunged forward, his arms outstretched to throttle Ron. Ron yelped and leaped back away from Snape, who ran right into the thin gold chain and got tangled in it. Draco and Hermione were yanked towards him; the two of them landed on top of Snape with a painful thud. Ron seized the opportunity to storm angrily from the office.

"Hermione! Are you okay?" Harry asked, dropping to his knees and helping her untangle herself.

"I'm fine," she groaned, rubbing her arm. "Professor?"

Snape pushed himself to his feet now that Hermione was clear. "That horrible little—" he began menacingly, starting for the door.

"Severus," Dumbledore said in a warning voice. "Please, sit down, you three—Miss Weasley, if you could…?"

Ginny was already on her way out the door. "I'll talk to him, Headmaster," she called over her shoulder.

Hermione sighed and watched her go as she, Harry, Draco and Snape sat back down. The last thing she needed right now was for Ron to get pissed off and stop talking to her and Harry, as he was undoubtedly going to do. He hadn't understood why Harry had told him to shut it, and now that Ron was angry it was going to be a long time before he listened to reason. Not that Ron would want to spend a lot of time with her while his least favorite classmate—if not least favorite person—was tied to her wrist…

"Ginny will know what to say," Harry told her, reaching over and taking her hand.

Hermione smiled at him gratefully as she laced her fingers with his. Thank the gods for Harry; he was always there for her, always trying to cheer her up.

"As I was saying," Dumbledore said quietly, "the solution will most assuredly be found, but it may take some time. Therefore, we shall have to make a few arrangements."

"Such as?" Draco said, considerably calmer now that Snape had tried to comfort him. Even if the professor was upset with him, they were still on the same side, and that had always meant a lot to Draco.

"Your classes, for one," Dumbledore said.

"How long do you expect this to last?" Hermione said in alarm. "I mean, can't we just… be excused for a few days or something?" The look on her face made it clear that she wanted no such thing; it was a mark of the seriousness of the situation that Hermione would request to be let out of classes.

"I do not know how long this predicament will endure," Dumbledore told her gently. "It is best to try to spend your time the way you would normally, or as close to it as possible. We shall rearrange your schedules to make certain you can make every class and allow you to still complete your respective prefect and Head Girl duties."

"Where will we sleep?" Draco demanded. "How will we use the bathroom? Where will we _eat,_ for crying out loud?"

"I am afraid it would not be prudent to dine at the Slytherin table," Dumbledore said, "so you will have to take your meals with the Gryffindors."

"That's not fair!" Draco said sulkily, but he knew damned well that no Slytherin would take kindly to having Hermione in their midst. Hell, there were very few Slytherins who wouldn't hex her for approaching the table, especially now that the war had isolated Slytherin so severely.

"Fair or not, it is necessary," Dumbledore replied. "As for where you will sleep… I suppose we shall have to remodel a guest room."

"Hogwarts has guest rooms?" Harry repeated in surprise.

"Hogwarts has sixty-seven guest rooms," Hermione said automatically.

"Then why didn't Beauxbatons and Durmstrang stay in the castle?" Harry asked.

"They never have, traditionally," Hermione explained. "They were a tad too worried about sabotage and espionage regarding their champions for the tournament and as such remained out on the grounds. Hogwarts did the same at Durmstrang or Beauxbatons. That's part of why they don't just Floo or Apparate into Hogsmeade and just take a school carriage onto the grounds, and why they don't bother with Portkeys; their travel vehicles double as accommodations. When Hogwarts is a visiting school, we travel in—"

"You know, Granger, you don't have to show off about everything," Draco interrupted rudely.

"Shut up, Malfoy—"

"Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy, please," Dumbledore interrupted. "There are guest rooms in Gryffindor tower—"

"Where?" Harry interrupted.

"Across from the fireplace, hidden behind that one tapestry of the Gryffindor lion," Hermione told him. "Every common room has them."

"You want me to stay in _Gryffindor tower?"_ Draco demanded shrilly.

"You want him to stay in _Gryffindor tower?"_ Harry repeated, looking just as stricken.

"You want him to stay in _Gryffindor tower?"_ Hermione whined.

"You want him to stay in _Gryffindor tower?"_ Snape added, trying to fight off a laugh.

"Indeed I do," Dumbledore said calmly. "There is no reason to put you in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, and Slytherin is out of the question, given current events. I do not think it wise to put you elsewhere in the castle, either, and most of those rooms do not have private baths, anyway. Now, has anyone seen the chain?"

"No, I don't think so," Harry said. "I couldn't see it until Hermione got up, and that was after everyone left."

"Then I think it best to keep it a secret. If asked, you shall tell everyone that you are being forced to spend time together as part of the punishment for… let's see, what would be a good excuse? Ah, I know—an elaborate, ongoing prank war." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as Hermione and Harry blushed and Draco rolled his eyes. Snape smirked. "An invisibility spell on the chain should keep anyone from finding out… Severus, would you do the honors?"

Scowling, Snape got up and tapped the chain with his wand. It appeared to vanish, but both Hermione and Draco could still feel the metal cuffs upon their wrists.

"Now then," Dumbledore said, "I'm afraid I have urgent business to attend to. I'd advise you both to walk and sit as close as you can, so that no one becomes entangled in the chain. Miss Granger, I believe you can show Mr. Malfoy your new room… I'll have Dobby redecorate it and move your things. The password for the wall is 'friendship.' Tell it to the portrait on your door also, and then change it to one of your choosing."

"'Friendship'? Can't we change it to 'love and bunnies'?" Draco muttered irritably.

"Why, that's an excellent idea, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said, smiling benignly. "I'll have it changed before you arrive." He paused. "One more thing—I do hope that you will use this opportunity to get past your… current feelings for each other. Do make an effort."

No one in the room took that seriously, probably not even Dumbledore.

"'Love and bunnies?' Good one, Malfoy," Hermione said rudely as she and Harry followed Snape from the room, Draco a bit more reluctantly.

"Oh, shut up, Granger," Draco snapped as they rode the spiral stairs downwards.

"Make me, Malfoy," Hermione retorted.

"If you insist—" Draco reached for his wand, only to look up and find Harry's wand two inches away from the spot right between his eyes. Snape conveniently hadn't noticed, and was now walking ahead down the hall, not looking back. Glowering, Draco took his hand from his wand.

Harry, Hermione, Draco and Snape approached Gryffindor tower and stopped outside the Fat Lady's portrait. "You will be all right from here, won't you?" Snape asked Hermione. "I don't think I could stand being around so many Gryffindors at once."

"Yes… I suppose we'll have to… ah… stop… you know…" Hermione said, trying to find the right words to convey her message without coming right out and saying it.

"Yes, of course… temporarily," Snape said quickly. "Good-bye, Miss Granger—and I'm warning you, Draco, _you had better behave yourself."_

Snape swept off down the hall. Harry, Hermione and Draco watched him go, none of them very eager to enter the common room.

"This won't look too weird," Hermione muttered sarcastically to Harry, glancing at Draco.

"You two go straight to the room, I'll tell everyone what happened—or most of it, anyway," Harry told her, putting his arm around her and giving her shoulder a comforting squeeze.

"Don't order me around, Potter," Draco snapped.

"Fine, Malfoy," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "You stay in the common room and have a nice long conversation with all your favorite Gryffindors, how's that?"

Draco glared at him but didn't argue. The three of them turned to the Fat Lady.

"Password?" she said, giving Draco a suspicious look.

_"Odiamos serpientes,"_ Hermione said.

"What the hell? What kind of password is that?" Draco demanded.

"One that a Slytherin wouldn't figure out," Harry said coolly as the Fat Lady swung forward.

Harry climbed through, then Hermione, and finally Draco. The silence was more complete than it had been in the Great Hall during the repeated phrase spell fiasco. No less than thirty people were sitting in the common room, and every last one stared in open-mouthed shock.

"What?" Draco said defiantly.

Hermione swallowed and turned to Harry. "Is it too late to just cut off his arm?" she whispered.

* * *

_End Notes:_ I'm dedicating this chapter, and the whole story, to Freyja SilverWillow, who is not only one of my closest and coolest friends but also a damn good author. I suggest that EVERYONE go read her fics; even if you don't like the categories she writes in, I can guarantee that you'll love her stories. "The Prank War" probably would have died off completely long ago if it hadn't been for her—most of my ideas in later chapters come from Freyja, and they're some of the better parts.

Well, thanks for reading, y'all, hope you like this.

_A note about relationships:_ Final reminder, this will be a HG/DM story, will NEVER be a HG/SS story, and will contain bits of HG/OW and possibly HG/HP.


	12. Love and Bunnies

**Chapter Eleven**

_Love and Bunnies_

Draco glared around the common room, his head held high, a rebellious glare on his face. "What?" he demanded as all the Gryffindors turned to stare. No one answered, and, rolling his eyes, he looked at the fireplace and then at the wall opposite it, where a large banner of a Gryffindor lion was hanging. Draco marched over to it, ignoring everyone in the room; the invisible chain around his wrist was jerked tight and pulled at Hermione's arm until she followed.

"Well?" he demanded as Hermione came to a stop next to him. The entire common room was still watching him; it was starting to make him nervous.

"Well what?" Hermione said.

"Tell it the password!"

Hermione grinned slyly. "I seem to have forgotten the password, Malfoy. Do you remember it?"

"Don't play games with me, you filthy Muh—"

He stopped. Chairs scraped, paper rustled and miscellaneous books and items slid off of laps and onto floors as every single Gryffindor in the common room stood up, black looks on their faces. Draco knew that Hermione didn't have very many close friends in Gryffindor, but he also knew that if someone like him dared to say something mean to her in her own common room, the Gryffindors might as well be an army of crazed, lovesick, devoted fans. Saying it was a bad idea to cast slurs about ancestry in a common room full of Muggle-borns, half-bloods, and blood traitors was like saying Voldemort was just a little misguided. As Draco looked warily around the room, Harry stepped forward, his wand half-raised in an almost lazy fashion.

"Go ahead, Malfoy," Harry said quietly. "See how many people will back you up here." He grinned, his eyes gleaming.

"Don't play games, Granger," Draco corrected himself irritably, glaring at Harry.

"I'm not playing games," she said calmly. "I just can't recall… oh, I remember now! How could I forget, you picked it yourself!" Her voice carried clearly through the silent common room. "Love and bunnies!"

Harry cracked up along with the rest of the common room as the banner of the lion rolled up and the wall began to dissolve and open into a hallway, much the way the brick wall behind the Leaky Cauldron became an archway leading to Diagon Alley. "I love you, Mione, I really do," Harry called.

"Love you too, Harry, dear," Hermione called back over her shoulder as she led the way through the entrance.

Torches sprang to life up and down the hall, which wasn't very long, and only had three doors and one floor. It looked like any other hallway in the castle, though the side closest to the common room curved around the base of the tower. Directly in front of them was a door with a portrait of a young witch, snoozing against the base of a tree.

"Excuse me," Hermione said to the witch in the painting as the wall behind them slid closed. The witch jerked awake. "We're supposed to be staying in here, I believe…"

"Yes, yes, you must be the two kids… but aren't you supposed to be chained together?" the woman said, speaking very fast. "No, don't explain, I don't really care, I was having a really good dream… password?"

"Love and bunnies," Hermione repeated while Draco glared at her.

"The headmaster said you'd be looking to change it?" the witch said.

"Yes, how about… hmm. 'Prank war' seems fitting enough," Hermione said thoughtfully. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Prank war it is," the witch said, and a loud click sounded and the door swung open slightly. "G'night," the witch said, and promptly went back to sleep.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione grabbed the door. Surely she could handle this; Malfoy wouldn't be able to prank her while chained to her, as she could blame it all on him with ease, and they were in Gryffindor tower, which meant she was relatively safe. And it wasn't like she couldn't torment him thoroughly for this… ooh, the _fun_…

She pushed open the door and stepped inside, Draco following. The room was done in mostly neutral earth tones and the occasional red or gold accent, with two dressers and two desks against one wall. Against the other were two beds, roughly three feet apart, with nightstands next to each. The far wall curved like the tower and was lined with a couch and four armchairs. A small coffee table was right in front of the couch and between two armchairs was a door, which presumably led to the bathroom. Between the dressers was a large closet, where all of their things had been stacked, including Crookshanks's carrying basket and Draco's owl's cage. It was one of the prettiest rooms she'd ever seen.

"What a dump," Draco said with a snort.

Hermione looked straight at him. "What a dump," she said, looking him up and down pointedly.

Draco glared at her angrily, making a silent vow to kill Dean Thomas at the earliest available opportunity.

* * *

Ginny sighed as she headed for the common room; she'd just wasted a good deal of her time trying to get Ron to listen to reason, and had only succeeded in having a huge shouting match and telling him to go bugger off before storming out of the room.

She paused as she neared the bottom of the boys' dormitory staircase, listening… but all she heard was silence. Raising her eyebrows, she picked up the pace.

"How could I forget, you picked it yourself!" Hermione's voice could be heard easily; the entire common room must have been silent. "Love and bunnies!"

Laughter sounded as Ginny reached the common room, and she could hear Harry and Hermione exchanging words. She entered the room just as the wall slid shut. She gave Harry a confused glance, which he returned with a weary smile before turning to address the Gryffindors in the room.

"I suppose you're all wondering what Malfoy was doing in here—well, of course you are," Harry said as Ginny's jaw dropped. Malfoy? HERE? "Well, Dumbledore has unfortunately found out about a few of the pranks Hermione and the evil Slytherin git have been pulling. So, he went on for a while about letting the punishment fit the crime, and then ordered them to remain in each other's company until they've learned to get along."

"You're joking!" exclaimed Seamus.

"If only," Harry said with a sigh. "They have to stay in a guest room together, and they have to attend classes together and everything else. No word on how long it'll be, either. So Malfoy has to join her for all of her classes and he'll be eating meals with us."

"That's just sick," Parvati Patil said in disgust.

"Yeah, whatever happened to punishments where only the person involved had to deal with it?" Lavender Brown said irritably.

The common room broke out into annoyed mutterings as Ginny made her way over to Harry, raising her eyebrows at him. He nodded at the wall and called, "Love and bunnies." Ginny gave him a strange look before realizing it was a password with the wall opened up for them.

"Who came up with that?" Ginny asked, quietly so as not to be overheard.

"Malfoy, believe it or not," Harry said with a mischievous grin. They approached to door across from them and prodded the painting to wake the witch.

"Password?"

"Love and bunnies."

"Sorry, it's been changed."

Harry frowned. "It has? Um… let's see…"

"Mudblood?" Ginny guessed. Harry glanced at her in surprise. "What? Malfoy may have picked it… no? Hmm… maybe Hermione picked it. How about, 'Malfoy is an ass hole?'"

"Malfoy should jump in the lake?"

"Er… no one messes with a Gryffindor?"

"Slytherin sucks?"

"I hate Malfoy?"

"Hermione, are you in there? Open the damn door!"

Ginny sighed. "Damn. I feel so bad about this… and just when the prank war was getting good—ooh!"

The door had swung open, revealing Malfoy and Hermione in the middle of a heated argument.

"Get out of my room, Potter," Draco snapped as soon as Harry entered.

"It's my room too, and Harry and Ginny can stay for as long as they want to put up with your stupid ugly face!"

"Ooh, good comeback, Granger. Are you five years old? How long did it take you to think that one up?"

"About as long as it takes to cast the Impediment Jinx on your ass!" She pulled out her wand, her eyes flashing.

"Go ahead and try. I'm sure Dumbledore would love to hear about it. Good luck explaining that you didn't do it when we're sharing a room."

"Forget you, Malfoy. Look, if we're going to be trapped together and everything, can we please just ignore each other and get through this without fighting?"

"Oh, like that'll work. But you know what? Go ahead and ignore me. I'll just watch. And take notes. Notes on all the things you lot do."

"Like that will help you. It's not as if I have some sort of secret life where I break every rule—"

"Rules about sleeping with teachers, for example?" Draco interrupted with a sly grin.

Hermione laughed. Now was as good a time as any to break the news about Snape; after all, it wasn't like she'd be able to continue the charade while chained to Draco. "I can't believe you actually bought that!"

"Are you stupid, or what?" Ginny said, cracking up. "What kind of idiot would really believe Snape and Hermione would do _anything_ together?"

"We planned the whole thing, just to freak you out," Harry said, grinning. "It's been pretty hysterical, I must say. Even Snape thought so."

_"You_ joined forces with _Snape?"_ Draco said incredulously.

"No… Hermione did, if you want to get technical," Harry said, shrugging. "Who cares? It's been really funny, watching you freak out. Wish we could have seen you vomit, but don't worry, Snape, via Hermione, described it in detail."

"All we've _really_ been doing once we put up the Silencing Charms around his office is talk about the next major prank we're going to pull on you," Hermione added.

"You expect me to believe that you _said_ that—_did_ that—it was all fake? Even the hickeys?" Draco demanded.

"What hickeys?" Harry asked, confused.

_Oh, no,_ Hermione thought, cringing in horror before forcing her expression back to one of smugness, determined to play the hickeys off as part of the joke. Harry didn't know, and neither did Ron… and with Ron pissed at her and Harry trying to support her despite how tough it was bound to be, now was not the time to tell them. "It was all fake, Malfoy—" she began, but Malfoy wouldn't be deterred now. He'd caught the brief panic on her face and seized upon it.

"The hickeys Snape put on her," Malfoy said with a cold grin as Harry's eyes grew almost comically wide. "The same day Pansy put you in the hospital wing. Oh, did Granger forget to tell you about that?"

"He's lying!" Hermione insisted.

"Am I?" Draco said mildly. "Gee. Did she ever tell you exactly what she said to him, Potter? The bit about doing it on his desk? Did she tell you about coming out of his office with her shirt half-off?"

"You're lying," Harry said uncertainly.

"Her whole neck was covered in hickeys, Potter. Her _whole neck."_

"There's no way Hermione and Snape would actually…" Harry trailed off, his brow wrinkling into a frown. Hermione had _flinched._ As if… as if she was remembering something horribly disgusting.

_"Hermione?"_ Harry demanded suddenly.

"What? You don't actually _believe_ him, do you?" Hermione said, but, while her tone was convincing and her expression next to outraged, she was blushing and her shoulders were hunched slightly, a dead giveaway that she was lying.

"Hermione?" Harry repeated in disbelief.

Hermione and Ginny, the only ones who knew the whole story, gave each other half-panicked looks before glancing away… but not before Harry saw them.

"You two really are keeping stuff from me, aren't you?" Harry demanded. "You actually let _Snape_ give you a hickey, Hermione?"

"Harry—"

"Multiple hickeys," Draco corrected him smugly.

"Oh, what do _you_ know?" Hermione said contemptuously. "You really thought I was sleeping with _Snape!_ How dumb could you _be?"_

Draco's face flushed. Part of him didn't believe it had all been a ruse—surely Snape wouldn't have done anything THAT intimate for show? The man hadn't touched a human in years, unless forms of violence counted. But if Draco said he didn't believe she'd been faking it, and he was wrong, the Gryffindors would just laugh longer, louder and harder.

"Don't try to change the subject, Granger," Draco sneered, deciding to ponder this freakish revelation at a later date and focus on the important things in life—like annoying and upsetting Potter. "Come on, talk—if you're all just playing games about Snape, then why did you enter his office without a mark on you and come out looking like you'd been attacked by a toothless vampire?"

"Yeah, why did you, Hermione?" Harry said angrily.

"Hey! I know you're not trying to take Malfoy's side, but you're getting close to it anyway!" Hermione snapped. "Who are you going to believe, me or him?"

"Gee, I suddenly don't know who to trust," Harry shot back.

"Harry, everything I ever did in Snape's office was just to mess with Malfoy, you know that!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Yeah? And what all did you _do,_ exactly?"

"Could we hold our private conversations some other time?" Ginny cut in pointedly. "Like, you know—when Malfoy's not here?"

"Please?" Hermione added softly, giving Harry a pathetic look and appealing to Harry's friendship and the protective side that all guys have when one inflates their ego enough while acting helpless and/or scared.

It worked; Harry sighed and nodded. "Fine, but don't think you're going to get out of telling me the real story eventually," he growled.

She nodded. "I will. Just… just not now."

"Oh, come on, I was just getting started. For example, Potter, did you know that she has pictures of herself partying with a bunch of Muggles, dated just last summer?"

"Now you're pushing the credibility," Harry said with a snort.

"Pansy found them when she was returning Hermione's things to her room and showed them to us," Draco continued, ignoring the interruption. "They were… interesting."

"You stole my photogra—?" Hermione began furiously before she could stop herself.

"No, we didn't. But thanks for proving they exist," he said nastily. "Pansy made copies of them with a spell and brought them to show us, but since they were copies they didn't last long. I'd told her not to take anything and she knew better than to go against me, but the copies were so interesting I almost went back for them. Most of them dated last summer, all of them completely motionless like Muggle pictures."

"Hermione was with her parents last summer," Ginny interrupted quickly.

"Really? Because it looked like she was partying with random people. On the beach, and in a hotel room—"

"They were my Muggle friends. I hadn't gotten to see them since the summer before fourth year; of course I was hanging out with them," Hermione snapped. "And it's not like I was doing anything _wrong—"_

"Maybe you should let Potter be the judge of that."

Hermione glared at him. "This is ridiculous. What I tell Harry is my business, not yours! Don't think I don't know what you're doing—you're trying to get me to say something incriminating in front of you so you can run off and tell someone, and I'm not going to fall for it."

"Actually, I'm just wondering how much Potter doesn't know about you. Did you show him your tattoo?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, already prepared for this one. "That was a _temporary_ tattoo in that picture, Malfoy. It washed off in a few days."

"Really? Because it was still there when I dumped you in Snape's bed."

She froze. "You're lying," she blurted out, just a little too late.

"Whoa, whoa, hold up—tattoo?" Harry asked faintly.

"I do _not_ have a tattoo," Hermione insisted quickly.

"Yes, you do.

"You can't honestly expect Harry and me to believe that Hermione has a tattoo," Ginny said loudly.

Draco cocked his head at her. "Do you really not know about it, Weasel? Or are you trying to _claim_ you don't for Potter's sake?"

"Hermione would tell me if she has a tattoo."

"You're right," Harry said suddenly. "She _would_ tell you. Ginny—"

"Okay, okay, look!" Hermione yelled in a panic. "This is getting us nowhere. We're just going around in circles. Malfoy makes some outlandish claim and then—"

"It's on her back," Draco cut in gleefully. "Just above her ass. It's a dagger, with a rose on the hilt and a stem wrapping around it. Off to one side, down far enough below her waist that Muggle clothes would cover it."

Harry gave Hermione a stern look. "Is that true?"

She sighed. "Harry… please. Not now. _Please_ not now. I'm having a terrible day and I just… I just want to wind down and _not_ think about Malfoy, and how bad these next few days are going to be, and how much damage he could do. I'll tell you. I promise. Whatever you want to know. Just _not now."_

Harry nodded, his expression softening slightly. Hermione looked utterly exhausted and worried and upset. He didn't want to add to her unhappiness, not now… besides, he knew it was a bad idea to make Hermione spill her guts in front of Draco.

"It's okay," he said, grinning at her weakly. "I'll wait."

Hermione gave him a relieved smile. Draco rolled his eyes. "You really are pathetic, Potter," he sneered.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry snarled. "You know what? You're—"

"Harry," Hermione interrupted, "please—let's just try not to fight, all right? Malfoy's stuck here, let's just ignore him, and he can ignore us—"

"Fat chance, Granger."

"—and we'll go back to normal once this stupid spell's over," Hermione finished.

"I'm so sorry, 'Mione," Ginny said quietly. "I didn't mean to hit you with—"

"Hey, it's not your fault," Hermione said, waving her hand dismissively.

"Yes, it is!" Draco said indignantly. "It's hers and Thomas's! Where is that bloody bastard? I'll kick his—"

"Oh, shut up, Malfoy," Hermione snapped. "If anyone's got a right to be angry, it's me."

"Excuse me? I'm chained to a Mudblood and rooming with Gryffindors! What's next, huh? Will I have to hang around with Weasel, too?"

"Oh, god, Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, having forgotten Ron's upsetting fight with Harry during all the upsetting fights she'd just had with Draco. "Ginny, what happened with him?"

"Er… well…"

"That bad, huh?" Harry said with a sigh.

"He's planning on strangling about fifty people," Ginny said, "including Malfoy, Harry, and Dean. Oh, and Snape… and the guy who invented chains… and me, actually, as I told him he was a huge prat who needed to go to Madam Pomfrey and have his head removed from his ass…" Harry and Hermione smiled, and Draco looked mildly impressed. "Oh, and then he said he was going to kill that guy who—"

"We get the point," Hermione said wearily. "All right, so… is he mad at me?"

"No," Ginny said.

"Not yet," Harry muttered bitterly.

"He'll come around, Harry, he always does," Hermione said soothingly.

"Aw, isn't that sad; everyone all worried about their friends not liking them—"

"Ignore him!" Hermione half-yelled as both Harry and Ginny made to retort angrily. "We're not going to let Malfoy get to us, okay? Because if we do then we're going to snap and end up in detention or expelled or in Azkaban or on the run with an escaped hippogriff like Sirius and Buckbeak—"

_"What?"_ Draco yelped. _"Sirius Black_ set that hippogriff free?"

"No, _we_ set it free," Harry said, grinning. "Me and Hermione. Then we gave it to Sirius Black—where have you _been,_ Malfoy?"

"Harry, please don't bait him," Hermione pleaded. "Let's pretend he's invisible, okay? Just an annoying, overly talkative ghost. Come on, let's go to the library, we can get some research done—"

"I'm not going to the library!" Draco protested. "I'm staying here!"

"No, you're coming to the library," Harry said, grabbing Hermione's chained hand, "even if I have to drag you."

"Or march you there by wand point," Ginny added. "Do the words 'Bat-Bogey Hex' ring a bell?"

Draco flushed slightly, remembering the curse she'd put on him in Umbridge's office. "Fine," he snapped, then gave them a cool smile that made them exchange nervous glances.

They left the room, Harry and Hermione in the lead, followed by Draco and then Ginny, keeping her eyes trained on him carefully. As the wall slid open to let them back into the common room full of Gryffindors, Draco stopped in his tracks, causing Ginny to nearly run into him and Hermione to nearly dislocate her shoulder. Conversations around the common room lulled and stopped at the sight of him.

"And by the way, Granger," Draco said once he had everyone's attention, speaking loud enough for everyone to hear and grinning widely at them, "I still want to know how you got that tattoo on your ass."


	13. In the Library

**Chapter Twelve**

_In the Library_

Snape entered his private chamber and sat down in the nearest armchair, his hands shaking. What Weasley had said had hit him hard. He had been trying to put the Death Eaters behind him—all that he'd done, all the people he'd hurt—and the death of Lily, his first real friend, whom he'd met back in Diagon Alley while shopping for his school supplies all those years ago. Part of him still wondered if there had been a way to save her, if there had been anything he could have done…

The prank war had, for him, been a break from his past, from the regrets and the bitter thoughts that plagued him—and now, not only was the prank war probably over, but he'd been forced to remember his past.

For the first time in a long time, Snape found himself wishing he had someone to talk to, someone who would listen. He ran through the small list of people he could count as friends, but no one seemed right just now. Albus would listen and then offer some wisdom, and Snape had a feeling he might try to smack the headmaster if Albus played the sympathetic wise man right now. Minerva was a possibility, but Snape wasn't sure she was the right person to go to for a conversation about all the heinous crimes he'd committed. The only other person in the school who didn't currently think he was an asshole was Granger, and even if he didn't think having a real heart-to-heart with her was laughable, he'd never be able to chat with her chained to Draco Malfoy. If only… wait.

Snape was surprised it had never occurred to him before—the one person alive he still liked, who knew exactly what it was like to pretend that the Death Eater's activities were anything more than sickening. His one real friend that had been in almost the same situation as he had… who was just as grief-stricken and unhappy and bitter.

"Of course," he muttered, marching over to the fireplace and grabbing his box of Floo powder. If one person would listen, would empathize, would _understand,_ it would be her.

* * *

Hermione froze, her eyes wide with horror. _Oh, no,_ she wailed silently, _god, not here! I'll never hear the end of this!_

She forced herself to get it together and spun to face him angrily. _"For the last time,_ Malfoy," she snarled, "I _don't_ have a tattoo!"

"Yes, you do, Granger, don't try to deny it," Draco said smugly. "A rose, with its stem twisted around a dagger. I saw it with my own eyes."

Gasps and whispers were breaking out all over the room. "You did no such thing!" Hermione said shrilly.

"Yes, I did," he retorted gleefully. "Come on, Granger; at least tell me how long it's been there? Or, if nothing else, why you chose to put it on your ass?"

"There is no tattoo on my ass!" Hermione fairly screamed. She drew her wand angrily; at that point, Harry grabbed her arm again and began hauling her towards the portrait hole with a laughing Draco being pushed after them by Ginny.

They were forced to stop outside the portrait hole, as Draco was laughing too hard to continue walking and collapsed on the floor, shaking. Hermione's hands twitched into claws and she started towards him, Harry quickly holding her back. He grabbed the chain, pushing her gently ahead of him and dragging Draco along for several feet until Draco got enough control over his laughter to stand and walk with them.

"Oh, that was priceless," Draco said, fairly skipping down the corridors behind them. "Absolutely priceless. I feel so much better now… ooh, there are so many things I could do from here, sleeping in the Gryffindor common room, tied to Granger… and now everyone knows about her tattoo!"

"Damn it, Malfoy, learn the value of intrapersonal communication! If you're going to talk to yourself—or at all—do it in your head!" Hermione snapped; she looked completely livid as she stormed down the hall. "Hurry up!" she added as Draco just chuckled. "God, I need the library… I really, _really_ need the library…"

"Going to have sex there, are you?" Draco said mischievously.

Hermione whipped around to face him. "Come on, Herm; ignore him, remember?" Harry said soothingly. "Malfoy is just an annoying fly. An evil, ugly, annoying fly. One day we will swat him. One day soon, when we're better able to hide the evidence."

Hermione giggled and Ginny laughed outright. "What would I do without you, Harry?" Hermione said fondly, lacing her fingers with Harry's and ignoring Draco's faked retching noises.

"Probably get into a lot less trouble," Harry said lightly as they continued towards the library. "And speaking of trouble," he went on, "tomorrow's Saturday; why don't we go visit Hagrid and see how he's coming with Pig?"

"What'll we do with Malfoy?" Hermione asked, biting her lip.

"Shut him outside the door, of course. Or feed him to Pig; we could always say it was an accident," Ginny piped up.

"Nah, Hagrid might get into trouble," Harry said sadly. "But last I heard Pig was doing pretty well, anyway. He's now just a seven-foot-tall owl. Hagrid's trying to figure out if it's safe to use a shrinking charm or not."

"Hagrid has a seven-foot-tall owl named Pig?" Draco said curiously, completely forgetting that his company wasn't exactly friendly. They ignored him, and he rolled his eyes.

The four of them finally reached the library, where more whispers greeted them; after all, it wasn't every day that Draco Malfoy went wandering around with Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley. Draco considered mentioning the tattoo again, but didn't want to overuse—and in doing so, wear out—his best form of entertainment, so he decided to save it for a better time; besides, he didn't want to get kicked out of the library, especially since it was really his only hope of getting Granger off his arm.

Unable to split up (well, Draco and Hermione weren't able to, and Ginny and Harry weren't going to let Hermione deal with Draco on her own), it took a rather long time to get a good selection of books. Hermione thought carefully about each book and read its summary while Harry glanced at titles and picked them up if he thought they might be useful. Ginny managed to find a few things here and there but kept seeing things about interesting curses or other spells and adding those to her pile, forgetting their mission. For a moment, they thought Draco had a system, as he was methodically selecting texts, but then they realized that he was simply pulling every third book off the shelf.

They chose a table at the back of the library, away from the majority of the students and the librarian's desk, and began sifting through books. Draco started humming, still pleased with himself about calling Hermione out in the common room, but none of the Gryffindors found his humming too annoying; Hermione was feeling much better with Harry and Ginny by her side, Harry was too concerned about Hermione and Ginny was too guilty about the duel to complain about Draco. Every so often, the three Gryffindors would comment on something they read or say a paragraph aloud to see if the others thought it was helpful, but they made little to no progress.

"Ooh, chained to another—no, this is for some weird love spell…"

"Un ojo del gato… oh, wait, this is in Spanish…"

"To destroy chains! No, wait, it's for non-magic chains…"

"Guys, listen to this! 'To make your enemy sexually attracted to rabbits—'"

"Ginny, hun, even if I _wanted_ to use that, now isn't the time to learn."

"Sorry. Still, you gotta admit, it _would_ be funny…"

"Let me see that book, Weasel!"

"Sod off, Malfoy!"

"Keep looking, Gin, I know we'll find it," Hermione said. "The library's never failed us before."

"Except over that gillyweed thing," Harry muttered, but smiled innocently at Hermione's glare and quickly returned to the nearest book. "Oh, look, this says… um… no coma las colas de la rata… why do I get all the Spanish ones?"  
"Have a French," Ginny said, laying one of her books on top of his.

"And an Italian," Draco said absently, adding another tome to Harry's pile and grabbing one of Harry's for himself. Draco was silent for a few moments as he looked through it. "Hmm… wait, I think we have a winner! 'Man and woman, bound by golden chains… of love?' That can't be right… hey, who slipped me the book on love potions? God, who _writes_ this stuff? I bet it's some monk, sitting all lonely in the cloister or whatever, dreaming of the glory days before he took his vows."

Harry chuckled, then froze, realizing he'd just laughed at one of his worst enemy's jokes. "Oh, god, we've got to look faster," he said desperately, pulling a large stack of books closer.

"I'm tired," Draco whined. "I want to go to sleep."

"So go ahead," Harry, Hermione and Ginny said in unison, each thinking how nice it would be to have him stay quiet.

"I'm not sleeping here! The smell is too creepy."

"The library does not _smell!"_ Hermione exclaimed indignantly, looking for all the world as though he'd just horribly insulted her.

"It does too! It has that old book smell, dust and knowledge and forgotten power."

"That was almost poetic," Ginny said, giving him a nervous look and edging her chair farther away from his.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Weasel. Listen, let's just—"

"What are you four doing back here?" barked Madam Pince, the librarian.

"Nothing," all four answered truthfully—which looked twice as suspicious.

"Don't try to pull a fast one on me," Madam Pince said irritably. "All of you, out."

"What? Why? We're just looking at books," Ginny protested.

"Right," Madam Pince said, casting a pointed look at Draco and then Harry. She glanced down at the books. "And I suppose you've a perfectly innocent reason to be looking up curses? And love potions?"

"That one was an accident," Draco said firmly, putting the love potions book in front of Harry.

"You heard me—out! And leave all these books here!"

Grumbling, Harry, Hermione, Ginny and Draco got up and filed out of the library. "Great," Hermione moaned. "Now she won't let us back in there together."

"Well, we'll just have to check stuff out and look at it in the common room," Ginny said determinedly. "And if she won't let us check out what we need, we'll get other people to check it out for us. Neville's done it for me before. Don't worry. Anyway, I'm sure Dumbledore will have a word with her soon."

Hermione sighed. "I'm chained to Malfoy, Ron's pissed at us, and now I've been kicked out of the library. Could things get any—"

"Don't say that," Harry and Ginny interrupted at the same time. "You'll jinx yourself," Ginny added.

"Besides," Draco said cheerfully, "you forgot: now everyone knows about your tattoo."

"Shut up," Hermione snapped.

Harry gave her a shrewd glance but didn't say anything about it. "Come on; let's go back to the common room. Might as well get some sleep; it's been a long day, and I've got a lot of homework to do tomorrow."

Draco wrinkled his nose, not looking forward to sharing a room with Granger, let alone a room in Gryffindor tower. He'd been avoiding thinking about it; now, there wasn't much he could do but face it; he'd have to sometime, though. Hopefully it would be over soon; it was a Saturday tomorrow, so they wouldn't have to face classes any time soon. Surely it wouldn't be more than one night.

They got back to the common room to find it mostly empty; the majority of the Gryffindors were either out gossiping with their friends, studying in the library or sleeping. "Are you going to be all right, Hermione?" Ginny asked worriedly as they stopped in front of the wall leading to the guest rooms.

Hermione nodded, trying to look braver than she felt. "I'll be fine, Gin."

"Yell if you need me," Ginny said, and Hermione gave her a rather forced smile as Ginny reluctantly disappeared up the girls' dormitory staircase. Harry, however, didn't budge.

"Hermione… do you want me to stay with you?" he blurted out. "I mean, so you won't have to be alone?"

Hermione bit her lip, not wanting to burden Harry but not wanting to be alone—asleep—in the same room as Draco. She knew Draco wasn't stupid enough to curse her while she was tied to him, but she didn't want to take that risk. She'd done plenty to upset him recently, and she suddenly recalled the way he'd looked at her outside Snape's office all those weeks ago, staring down her shirt. Part of her was terrified of Draco, given his past, but she knew that if Dumbledore thought there was even a small chance of Draco hurting her, they wouldn't be sharing a room without supervision.

"I don't mind," Harry continued softly, watching her expression as she argued with herself.

"Hey, _I _mind!" Draco protested angrily. "One of you is bad enough!"

Harry and Hermione ignored him. "Um… are you sure, Harry?" she asked tentatively.

Harry nodded and grinned at her reassuringly. "I'll be right back; I just need to get some stuff. Besides, it's not like I have a lot of people in my dorm I want to hang out with right now," he added darkly.

Hermione gave him a relieved smile, knowing that he'd much rather sleep in the same room as Ron and Dean than Draco, even under the circumstances (hell, he'd probably prefer to sleep in the same room as an angry Blast-Ended Skrewt) and yet he still wanted to support and protect her.

"Potter is not sleeping in my room!" Draco snapped as Harry ran up to his room.

"Yes, he is," Hermione said calmly.

"No, he isn't!"

Hermione grinned. "Scared, Malfoy?"

"Scared? Of Potter? Ha!"

"So there's no problem, then," Hermione said coolly.

"There is too a problem! Where's he gonna sleep, anyway? The couch?"

"In my bed, probably," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. She and Harry had slept in the same bed before—at the end of fifth year, when Harry had come to Grimmauld Place, he'd been really upset, believing Sirius to be dead. Hermione had gone to his room to comfort him and she'd ended up holding him for so long that they'd fallen asleep together; she'd continued to sleep in his bed, curled up with him, for the rest of the summer. Neither saw it as anything more than a strange sort of extended hugging; she still did it sometimes, when he was upset and didn't want to be alone. Their friendship was too strong for them to see each other as anything more than friends.

Draco, however, looked shocked. "Hmm… well, at least I'll have something else to tease you about come morning."

Hermione glared at him. "Come on, Malfoy. You really think anyone's going to believe I slept with Harry? My boyfriend's best friend?"

"Well, I'd say most everyone believes you have a tattoo, and that's hard to believe, too," Draco retorted. He grinned at her. "Come on, Granger—tell me when you got it?"

"Would you shut up about my tattoo?" she snarled.

"Ooh, so you admit it, do you? Finally!"

"I'm_ not_ admitting it! I don't know what you're talking about!"

"It's there, Granger, you know damned well I've seen it—right there…" He reached over and poked a spot just above her butt, causing her to shriek and slap at him.

"Don't touch me!"

"Admit it, then! You've got a tattoo!"

"Hermione?" Harry had emerged from the boys' dormitories in record time, wearing his pajamas and carrying his book bag, which was stuffed full of clothes and other overnight items. "You okay?"

"Yes," she said, glaring at Draco. She sighed. "Let's just… just get some sleep."

"Fine," Draco said cheerfully. "Oh, there's just one tiny problem, though."

"What?" Hermione said, exasperated.

"I have to go to the bathroom."


	14. Shut Up, Malfoy

_**IMPORTANT! YOU WILL MISS SOMETHING IF YOU DO NOT READ THE NOTE BELOW!**_

_Author's Notes:_ Until recently, I was unaware that we aren't allowed to post song lyrics into our fics, and used some lyrics myself. Therefore, I removed the lyrics. This makes the story slightly less funny in places, especially later on. I hope to soon have all of my work up on another site that allows lyrics, and when I do the link will be in my bio and an announcement will be in my author's notes. Some chapters in the future will be so completely changed by the removal of the lyrics that I won't be able to post more than half a chapter on this site, but I'll put up warnings and a link to another site when that happens. I apologize for this; I'd written those chapters before I realized I couldn't use lyrics.

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen**

_Shut Up, Malfoy_

"This is really stupid, you know."

"Shut up, Malfoy."

"Hurry up in there, will you, Granger?"

"Shut UP, Malfoy!"

The private bathroom Draco and Hermione were to share was rather large, and the toilet was surrounded by walls like a public restroom stall, so there hadn't been much of a problem with using it. The shower, however, had created quite an annoyance.

"Stop jerking my arm around!"

"Shut up, Malfoy!"

"I have to wash my hair, Malfoy! Get over it!"

"Why do you bother, it looks like crap anyway—ow! _Potter!"_

"Shut up, Malfoy!"

It had taken them ages to figure out how Hermione and Draco were going to shower—or get dressed and undressed, for that matter; they had no idea how to take off their shirts and robes over the chain. Hermione, who was usually so quick to find a solution, had begun to panic and consequently was unable to think of anything; Harry, however, had remembered the spell Ron had used to trim the lace off of his dress robes in their fourth year and had suggested something similar, which calmed Hermione down and sent her into research mode. Half an hour later, they had a spell that could cut their shirts open, allowing them to take off and put on their outfits, and then all they had to do was repair their clothing later with a simple charm. Draco changed into his pajamas without a hitch, but Hermione insisted upon taking a shower before bed; she knew from experience that her hair would be twice as unmanageable if she didn't let it at least partially air dry. Harry used threats—both by words and wand—to get Draco to turn around so Hermione could get undressed and hop in the shower.

Hermione had been beyond nervous about showering with five feet separating her wrist from Draco's—so Harry had been forced to stand inside the bathroom, his wand aimed right between Draco's eyes while Draco's arm was yanked back and forth as Hermione reached for various bottles and scrubbed herself clean. Draco, annoyed, angry and tired, kept up a steady stream of comments; Harry occasionally "accidentally" hit or kicked Draco for saying something especially rude. Draco spent most of the time glaring at Harry, who was watching him suspiciously, making sure Draco didn't try to peek or make any threatening moves. It was getting really late; not only had there been the clothing problem, but they three of them had had scores of arguments.

"You people are really paranoid, you know that?" Draco said irritably to Harry. Hermione had been in the shower for over an hour (the castle's water supply was bewitched to make sure no one ran out of hot water), and during the entire time, Harry had been watching him carefully.

"Gee, I wonder why," Harry said, rolling his eyes. His arm was starting to cramp from holding his wand up for so long. "Um… Herm? Are you almost done?"

"Yeah," she said, and then proceeded to spend another twenty minutes in the shower. At last, she shut off the water… but made no move to come out.

"Hermione?" Harry called as the minutes stretched.

"Um… could you hand me a towel, Harry?"

"Come on out and get one yourself—ow!"

"Shut _up,_ Malfoy!"

Harry grabbed a nearby towel and threw it over the shower curtain to Hermione, trying not to laugh at the resigned look on Draco's face as Draco's arm was yanked back and forth once again.

"Hey, Harry? Er… how am I supposed to get dressed?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "It's nothing I haven't seen before, Granger," he called, smirking.

"Shut up, Malfoy!"

"It's something you'll never see again," Harry growled, and cast a Summoning Charm to get Hermione's nightgown, underwear and wand and throw them over the shower curtain.

"This is so embarrassing," she moaned from inside the shower. They could hear the ripping noise as she cast the charm to rip open the strap on her nightgown to get it on her head, followed by a Repair Spell. At last, she pulled back the curtain, her hair wrapped up in the towel.

"Nice nightgown," Draco said, smirking. Hermione glared at him; she wasn't much of a clotheshorse, and only had a few nightgowns; this was the only one she had that was currently clean, and while it was almost ankle-length, it also showed a bit of cleavage and was rather clingy. "Although surely you've got something better? I mean, I already know you're a fan of black lace—ow!" Draco rubbed the back of his head and shot an annoyed look at Harry.

"Ready for bed?" Harry asked wearily, lowering his wand. Standing in a bathroom for nearly two hours while Draco made wisecracks wasn't exactly his idea of fun—quite the opposite, really, he now had extra motivation to make sure he was never sent to hell.

Hermione nodded reluctantly, glancing at Draco out of the corner of her eye, and the three of them headed for the bedroom. After a thirty-minute fight over who got which bed, they finally settled in to sleep. Harry lay on the edge of one bed, glaring at Draco while Hermione curled up against Harry's chest, falling almost instantly asleep.

"Don't you two look cozy," Draco drawled, lying on his stomach on the other bed and glaring back at Harry. "You and Granger do that a lot?"

"None of your business, Malfoy," Harry snapped. He knew perfectly well that other people—Ron included—thought his tendency to share a bed with Hermione was odd, but it had never meant anything to him; it was no different than falling asleep while sitting on the couch together or something, and he found her presence beyond comforting. Harry and Hermione were above having a relationship; they were too good of friends.

"So that's a yes, then," Draco said, smirking. "Does the Weasel know?"

"Shut up, Malfoy."

"Who would have thought Granger was such a little tramp behind the scenes?"

"She is not," Harry said hotly. As far as he knew, Hermione had only had two boyfriends, Ron and Krum, and had never gone very far with either of them; still, there were plenty of rumors about her, mostly due to Slytherin animosity and reporters' speculation about Hermione being the ex-girlfriend of not only Quidditch star Viktor Krum but also the Boy-Who-Lived. Both Harry and Ron had started becoming increasingly upset when overhearing rumors about her; not only was she their closest friend, but Harry was sick of being asked about his "relationship" with her and Ron was sick of people thinking his girlfriend was a whore.

"Sure she isn't," Draco snorted. "Between you, the Weasel, Krum, and Snape—"

"I still can't believe you fell for that," Harry said with a snicker. "What an idiot."

"Say what you want, Potter, but I know what I saw. She came out of his office covered in hickeys, and the Little Weasel saw it, too."

"How would you know what Ginny saw?" Harry retorted.

"You saw her face when I mentioned it," Draco said. "She knows, and the two of them kept it a secret from you."

"Whatever, Ferret Boy."

"Shut it, Scar Head."

"Make me, dumb ass."

"Don't make me make you, shit head."

"Loser."

"Mudblood."

"Death Eater."

Draco felt his blood boil. After the fight with Ron, he swore he would to keep his head when someone called him that, but he couldn't stop the rage that ignited within him.

Draco grabbed for the chain and yanked on it, hard, pulling Hermione forward and forcing Harry to be pushed off the bed as well. Harry landed painfully on the floor, Hermione on top of him. She awoke with a start and looked up, confused, while Draco burst out laughing.

Harry grabbed for the chain and jerked on it with all his might; Draco grabbed at his pillow and blankets uselessly in an attempt to stop his fall as Harry pulled Hermione out of the way. Draco landed next to them with a thud.

"Potter, you little shit!" Draco yelled, punching Harry hard in the arm. Harry responded with a jab to Draco's eye and the fistfight began.

Hermione pleaded with them as she was jerked back and forth from Draco's punches and dodges; the two boys were oblivious to her as they took out seven years of frustration on each other. Eventually, as Draco got Harry in a headlock and Harry used the opportunity to continuously ram his fist into Draco's gut, Hermione grabbed her wand.

_"Petrificus totalus!"_ Hermione yelled, and Draco's legs and arms sprang to his side. He toppled over, face-up at the foot of Hermione's bed.

"Thanks," Harry panted, straightening up and glaring at Draco's prone form.

_"Petrificus totalus!"_ Hermione shouted again, and Harry found himself meeting the same fate as Draco.

The two boys stared up at Hermione as she loomed over them, glowering at each in turn. "I've had it with you two!" she yelled. "I need to sleep, and I'm _going_ to sleep, and you two are going to get over yourselves until I get this stupid chain off! Let me assure you both, right now, that I know more curses than Flitwick and McGonagall combined, and I won't hesitate to use them! You two _will_ behave, do you understand me?"

Neither of them could move anything more than their eyes, but Harry jerked his up and down, nodding as best he could. She took that as an affirmative.

"Good night," she said irritably, grabbing Draco's feet and dragging him close enough to her bed for her to climb into it and lay down. _"Boys,_ honestly," she muttered, before closing her eyes and falling back asleep.

Usually, the Full Body-Bind didn't last too long, but Hermione had overdone it in her anger. It was almost daylight before either boy could move a muscle, which gave them plenty of time to seethe and to realize that Hermione could be way too scary when she was angry.

Hermione awoke, perfectly rested, to find herself curled around Harry once more; he must have gotten back in the bed once the spell wore off. Draco, however, had fallen asleep after about two hours of petrifaction and was still slumped against her bed. She nudged him with her foot; she had to pee, and she couldn't drag Draco all the way to the bathroom.

Draco started awake, wondering who dared to touch him, and looked up in confusion. Remembering the previous night, he looked up; Hermione was sitting up, kicking Draco gently but insistently in the side, struggling to lean over Harry; the chain was trapped beneath his arm. At least, she was pretty sure it was under his arm; she couldn't see it, which made matters more difficult.

"Stop it," Draco snapped drowsily. "Go back to sleep."

"I have to go to the bathroom."

"Use the bed," Draco told her, too tired to do anything but lay down on the floor. "Potter won't mind, honest."

"Come on, I can't even get out of bed without stepping on you," she whined.

"Step on me and die."

"Fine. I'll just lay here. And sing. In French. Do you know how to sing 'Jingle Bells' in French? Sing with me, now—_on marchent dans—"_

"All right, all right," he moaned, sitting up. "Anything to shut you up."

"Thank you. Let me wake Harry."

"Does Potter _really_ have to be there?" Draco whined. "If I have to be awake, I prefer him unconscious."

Hermione ignored him and started to shake Harry. "Harry? Harry, wake up." Harry groaned but didn't wake up. "Harry!"

Harry's eyes opened a crack. He looked up at her, smiled, and promptly pulled her to him, then rolled over until he was on top of her.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed.

"POTTER!" Draco yelled, as the chain tugged his arm up and across Harry's back.

"Need more sleep," Harry murmured, nuzzling his face into the pillow beside her head.

"Harry, Harry you have to wake up…"

"Potter, you have until I count to three before I Avada Kedavra you!"

Harry opened his eyes, confused. "Malfoy?" he asked sleepily, looking up and back at Draco. "Go away. I'm sleeping," he muttered, closing his eyes and laying back down, still sprawled across Hermione.

"Harry! Get up!" she said shrilly as Draco struggled to reach his wand, which was still under his pillow on the other bed.

Harry sighed, finally seeming to come back to earth. "What?" he groaned. He sat up—and nearly broke Draco's arm in the process. Draco was forced to dive over Harry and he landed on the bed on the other side of Harry and Hermione.

"Damn. You're still here," Harry said wearily, giving him a strange look as Draco landed on the bed, causing the mattress to bounce slightly.

"Yeah, well, I'm not enjoying it either," Draco said angrily.

The door opened just then and Ginny bounded into the room, then stopped, staring around in surprise. Harry was sitting on Hermione, Draco was lying next to them, and all three of them were giving her an annoyed look. She grinned. "Am I interrupting something?" she asked innocently.

"Ginny!" Hermione wailed.

"Sorry, couldn't resist."

"Hey, Gin," Harry said tiredly, climbing off of Hermione. "How goes the rumor mill?"

"Tell me in the bathroom," Hermione said, interrupting Ginny and nearly leaping off the bed.

Ginny followed the three of them into the bathroom curiously. "This is one of the weirdest things you've ever had to do, you know," she commented idly as she inspected the spacious bathroom.

"Yeah, I never thought I'd be taking Malfoy to the toilet," Hermione said wearily as she emerged from the bathroom stall and went to wash her hands.

"Hey, Ginny?" Harry asked as Hermione walked back over to the stall to let Draco use the toilet. "Can you stay here while Malfoy showers?"

Ginny stared at him. _"What?"_

"I don't want to leave Hermione alone with him, but if you're here, I can go use the main showers while he's using this one; then we can get down to breakfast faster," Harry explained. "That way she won't have to wait while I shower, too. You don't mind, do you, Hermione?"

Hermione shook her head. "Sure, Harry," Ginny said, and Harry left gratefully.

Draco sleepily stumbled into the shower and Hermione and Ginny sat outside the shower stall, chatting idly.

"There's a lot of talk floating around," Ginny told her. "Mostly about Harry; a few people saw him come in here in his pajamas with you, and everyone seems to know that he and Ron had a fight—"

"Let me guess—I broke up with Ron and went out with Harry?"

"Yup. Then everyone's speculating about what you did that Dumbledore found out about; some people say it was the Quidditch goal post prank—" Ginny raised her voice to make sure Draco could hear her clearly— "and some say after I accidentally knocked you into him, you two had a huge duel and Dumbledore found out."

"Who won the duel?" Hermione asked with a smile.

"Well, the Gryffindors think it was you, and the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs will probably think the same thing, but the Slytherins will most likely insist it was Malfoy—"

"Yeah, well, who cares what they think?"

"Exactly."

Hermione shivered slightly in her nightgown. "Hey, Ginny... could you go get me something to wear?" she asked.

"Sure," Ginny said, leaving and returning several minutes later with Hermione's best skirt and cutest sweater.

"Ginny, I'm not wearing that," Hermione said, nodding at the sweater as she changed into the bra, underwear and skirt.

"Why not?" Ginny demanded. "It looks so cute on you!"

"It shows more than my bra does!"

"I vote you wear it!"

"Shut up, Malfoy!" both girls shouted at the shower curtain.

"Come on, Hermione, why buy cute clothes if you're not going to wear them?"  
"I _don't_ buy them. My mother buys them and then sneaks them into my luggage."

"Please?"

"No."

"Fine," Ginny said with a pout, and returned to the bedroom.

She came back to the bathroom three times with fashionable sweaters, none of which Hermione would wear. By the time Ginny returned with a sweater Hermione could agree to, Draco was already out of the shower, dressed, and in the process of styling his hair with gel.

Harry arrived, dressed and groomed, as Hermione and Draco were in the process of brushing their teeth, both of them fully clothed, while Ginny hovered behind Hermione, eyeing Hermione's bushy hair with longing.

"Come on, Hermione, it would look so cute if we smoothed it down a bit…"

"Groh," Hermione said through a mouth of toothpaste.

"Was that a yes?" Ginny asked hopefully.

Hermione spat in the sink. "No!"

"Please?"

"Let it go, Gin, she looks fine," Harry said, ignoring Draco's derisive snort.

"But if I could just—"

"For heaven's sakes, Gin, I'm not a Barbie," Hermione said, exasperated.

"What's a Barbie?" Ginny asked blankly.

"Muggle doll," Draco said absently, expecting his reflection in the bathroom mirror carefully.

The Gryffindors turned to stare at him. "How do you know that?" Harry demanded.

Draco narrowed his eyes and scowled at him. "I took Muggle Studies. My father made me."

"That's right, I forgot you were in that class," Hermione said vaguely.

"Can we go down to breakfast now?" Draco snapped, marching out of the bathroom; Hermione had to throw her toothbrush back on the counter as she was half-dragged away.

After feeding Crookshanks and bundling up in cloaks and other winter gear, the four of them set off for the Great Hall, ignoring the whispers from students they passed, walking once again with Harry and Hermione in front and Ginny following Draco. Draco had fallen into a sullen silence; none of the others knew why, but they didn't exactly care.

"You're getting really good at that hat-making," Harry remarked as they headed downstairs. Hermione's knit hats now looked almost store-bought; she was wearing one at the moment.

"I just wish some of the elves had picked them up," Hermione said sadly, having found out the previous year that not only had the house elves refused to touch them, but they had refused to clean Gryffindor tower.

"Well, you made Dobby really happy, at any rate," Ginny said.

"And the elves forgave you," Harry said.

"You lot are really weird," Draco muttered, not understanding their conversation. "Wait… Dobby? We used to have a house elf named Dobby… wonder whatever happened to him. Hmm… bet Father killed him."

"Your father _killed_ your elves?" Hermione demanded in shock.

"Occasionally. He killed a lot of stuff," Draco said dully, and moved around her to continue walking.

Harry, Hermione and Ginny exchanged glances, but none of them said anything. As they approached the entrance hall, someone cleared their throat and said, "Um… Ginny?"

They all turned to see Dean Thomas staring at them sheepishly; he backed away slowly as every last one of them drew their wands and glowered at him.

"Er… I just wanted to apologize to you, Gin," Dean mumbled. "And to you, Hermione. I just… I lost my temper, and then when I saw you go for your wand I panicked, I know how good you are. I… I'll understand if you're still upset, but I'm sorry, guys, I really am."

Ginny bit her lip. "Go on without me, guys," she told Harry and Hermione. "I'll catch up with you later."

"Excuse me?" Draco spat as Harry and Hermione started walking. Forgetting the fact that he would rather die than fight on the side of Harry, Hermione and Ginny, he added, "Are you _insane?_ It's four on one! Let's kick his ass!"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry, Hermione and Ginny said in unison. Draco looked ready to attack Dean himself, but McGonagall entered the hall just then and he thought better of it.

Harry, Hermione and Draco went into the Great Hall together and sat down at the Gryffindor table, Draco casting a longing look at his fellow Slytherins. The other Gryffindors ignored them entirely; every Gryffindor walking into the hall cast Draco a poisonous look and sat down as far away from him possible.

Just as they were tucking into breakfast, someone plopped down next to Hermione and they all looked up in surprise.

"Wood!" Harry said. "What's up?"

Oliver Wood, who'd been teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts since the beginning of term—after sustaining a major injury that had forced him to take a leave of absence from the Puddlemere United Quidditch team—grinned at Harry over Hermione's shoulder. "Just thought I'd come see how you were doing," he said casually. "Dumbledore's told the staff what really happened. You all right, Hermione?"

Hermione blushed and didn't meet Oliver's eye—which didn't escape the notice of Harry or Draco. Harry frowned. Oliver had joined the Order of the Phoenix in the summer before their fifth year, and had hung around Grimmauld Place with them on many occasions. Harry had begun to notice something strange about Oliver and Hermione, though he'd never been able to put his finger on what, and had been too distracted by the war to care very much. However, since Oliver had become the DADA teacher, things had been _very_ off between them. Hermione never lingered after class to talk to Oliver like Harry and Ron did, and when she came to Quidditch practices she left early if Oliver turned up to offer his expertise. Oliver had become closer to them all during the war, and yet he and Hermione, so friendly with each other during the days at Grimmauld Place, barely spoke anymore. Harry forced his features into a blank expression; Draco looked curious enough about why Hermione seemed so uncomfortable.

"As well as can be expected," Hermione told him. "You?"

"I'm good," Oliver said, smiling at her warmly. She gave him a more nervous sort of grin. "Oh… here, these are your new schedules," he said, handing Hermione and Draco each a slip of paper. "Dumbledore asked me to give them to you. Oh… and Hermione, have you seen Snape?"

Hermione's head whipped up and she finally looked Oliver in the eye. "What makes you think I've seen Snape?" she asked suspiciously.

"Nothing," Oliver said hastily. "It's just… well, the twins might've, um, sort of, you know, said something the last time I was in Diagon Alley," he went on in a rush. "About you and Snape forming an alliance—"

"Told you about the prank I pulled on her, didn't they?" Draco said with a smug smile.

"Shut _up,_ Malfoy!" Harry and Hermione yelled.

"Five points from Slytherin," Oliver snapped.

"For what?" Draco retorted rudely.

"You just admitted you pulled a prank," Oliver said coldly. "Keep talking and you'll wish you'd never heard of Hogwarts." Draco returned to his breakfast irritably and Oliver grinned. "I love being a teacher," Oliver said with relish. "Really beats the hell out of being a student."

"Did the twins really tell you?" Hermione said desperately. "How many people have they told?"

"Not many," Oliver assured her. "Just, you know, Bill and Charlie… and Lee… and Angelina, Alicia, and Katie." Hermione sighed heavily. "And, um, Tonks," Oliver added, and she moaned and put her head in her hands. Oliver patted her back soothingly, then quickly stopped at Harry's shrewd look. "Don't worry about it, okay? It's not worth getting upset over. Anyway… _have_ you seen Snape? No one's seen him since yesterday, right after he took you to Dumbledore's office, and he's not answering whenever one of us knocks on his door. McGonagall broke into his room—"

"She _what?"_ Harry, Hermione, and Draco interrupted in surprise.

"She… well, she's good friends with Snape—except when it's Quidditch time—and she knows him well enough to be able to guess most of his passwords. So she went in there this morning, and said it doesn't look like he slept in there last night. Poppy—you know, Madam Pomfrey, I'm trying to get used to calling the teachers by their first names—she said he was supposed to start brewing some more Pepper-Up Potion today."

"Hmm," Hermione said. "Well, I haven't seen him since last night, either. I'm sure he'll turn up. He's in his forties, for crying out loud, he probably isn't used to leaving a note if he goes and visits a friend for the weekend."

"Hermione, this is Snape we're talking about," Oliver said wryly. "He doesn't have friends, and he hasn't disappeared for the weekend since before You-Know-Who died."

"Well, I wouldn't worry about it," Harry said. "He'll turn up. Or maybe he quit, who knows?" he added hopefully.

Oliver grinned. "One can wish. He's an absolute nightmare… though he's been a tad nicer recently, really. Still a jerk, just less consistently, you know? Anyway… I've got to go, I need to eat some breakfast and get straight up to my office; I've got a huge pile of papers to grade."

"Wait—is there any news on a cure?" Hermione asked.

"For the chain thing? No, not yet. We talked to a few witnesses, so we know what curses combined, but we're not sure what they combined into or how to counteract the effects. Minerva and I are especially working hard on it, though," Oliver said. "We're both fully aware of how likely it is that one of you will kill the other… but everyone's in on it, and Flitwick is wracking his brains. I'm sure we'll get it off soon… oh, have you guys heard the rumors that have been flying around?"

"Like what?" Harry asked.

"That Hermione dumped Ron for you, that she turned Malfoy into a pumpkin during a duel in the Great Hall, that she's killed Snape—"

_"What?"_ Hermione exclaimed.

"Well, no one _has_ seen him," Oliver said with a shrug, "and all anyone knows is that he showed up right after you two got hit by that curse, and now he's gone. There's all sorts of crazy gossip floating around—and the entire student body has somehow found out about your tattoo, Hermione—"

"WHAT?" Harry roared. Draco chuckled, an eager look on his face as he waited for the coming argument and the explanation as to just exactly how the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor knew about a tattoo on Hermione's ass. Everyone in the Great Hall turned to look at the group curiously.

Hermione and Oliver stared at each other in horror, Oliver blushing a bright red and Hermione unbelievably pale. Harry's eyes were wide with anger and disbelief; he was glaring at the back of Hermione's head.

"You didn't tell him?" Oliver asked Hermione faintly.

"Shut up!" Hermione hissed.

"Um… well, y-you see…" Oliver stammered. He gulped and rubbed the back of his neck. "It's, um… It's like this, Harry, uh… bye!"

And with that, Oliver jumped up from the table and ran out of the hall without a backwards glance.

Draco burst out into loud guffaws and Hermione stared after Oliver, not daring to face Harry and unable to believe that he'd abandoned her to deal with the mess he'd just caused. Pasting the best "I'm-your-best-friend-and-you-love-and-cherish-me" expression on her face that she could muster, she slowly turned back around.

"Well," Harry snarled when at last she was facing him. "Not only did you lie to me—but _you showed **him** your ass?"_

"SHH!" she hissed as whispers broke out all over the hall. "No, I… well, okay, I… Harry, please, don't… bye!" Deciding she might as well follow Oliver's example, she jumped up from the table, ran around to the other side where Draco sat, grabbed him by the back of the robes, and started to haul him out of the hall as fast as humanly possible.

"Oh no you don't!" Harry shouted, and raced off after the mortified Hermione and the laughing Draco.


	15. The Puffed Up Prat

**Chapter Fourteen**

_The Puffed Up Prat_

"Hermione! GET BACK HERE!" Harry bellowed as Hermione dragged Draco out the front door and out onto the grounds.

"Harry, please, calm DOWN!" Hermione wailed, dashing past a group of second years going for a stroll.

"I _AM_ CALM!" Harry roared, so loudly that the second years jumped and scattered as he approached.

"I can explain!" Hermione yelled, though she seemed to have no intention of doing just that, as she was running as fast as possible away from Harry.

"YOU HAD BETTER!" Harry shouted, stomping after her. "Hermione Granger, stop walking right now!"

Hermione, who had accidentally run straight for the lake and could go no farther without introducing herself to the giant squid, finally stopped and turned to face him, giving Draco the opportunity to collapse on the ground and shake with laughter.

Harry stopped about three feet from her, close enough to grab her if she tried to run again (which wasn't likely, with Draco on the ground and in no state to stand, let alone run). "Hermione," Harry said coldly, "you've always kept secrets from me and Ron. At first, I wasn't too worried—we've all got our secrets—but this is getting old. The Time-Turner. Lupin being a werewolf. Rita Skeeter. Now, it's Snape, and tattoos, and Oliver bloody WOOD… the gods only know what else you've kept from me, but I swear, Hermione, you had better tell me _what the hell is going on,_ right _now!"_

Hermione hung her head. "I… I'm really sorry Harry. I… you're right, I shouldn't keep secrets from my best friends, but… well, it's embarrassing, really, this tattoo, and I didn't really think it was a big deal… I got it last summer, okay?"  
"Since when are you the type to get a tattoo?" Harry demanded incredulously.

"I'm not! It's just… Harry… did you know I have friends?"

"What are you talking about? I _am _your friend."

"No… other friends. Friends from before Hogwarts. In the Muggle world. A whole group of them… but we didn't get to spend very much time together once I started going to school, or even talk much. It's not easy to find ways to send letters to Muggles via owl without them getting suspicious. But… well, the point is, this summer, when it was finally safe to go back to my own house and be with my parents and my friends… I went out with my friends. And they've grown up, Harry, they're not eleven anymore like they were when I left. The last time I saw them, except for this past summer, was before fourth year."

"How does this lead to a tattoo?"

"Well… we talked a lot about being friends forever, you know? About how no matter how far apart we were we'd always be friends. And… and we were partying a bit, nothing major, a few drinks, some music… but one of my friends suggested we should do something to show that we were friends. We talked about T-shirts, but someone else said we should do something really permanent. And they wanted to do a blood-brothers sort of thing."

"Where you prick your finger and mix your blood with your friends?" Harry asked.

"Yeah. Horrible idea, really, what with all the Muggle diseases… but with me being a witch, there's magic in my blood, so I couldn't do it anyway without breaking about six laws, and then someone got the idea for tattoos."

"And you said yes?" Harry demanded incredulously.

"I… well… Harry, things were different that summer. I'd just saved the world, I was so euphoric and proud… and yet things were so _off._ I kept thinking about how I'd move on to this future in the wizarding world, and leave the Muggle world behind, and there I was, surrounded by that world, and all the people I'd grown up with… I wanted a sign that it was a part of me. I wanted a sign that—for heaven's sake, shut _up,_ Malfoy!"

"Go on," Harry urged. "Get to the part about Wood."

"Everyone thought it was a good idea, and I gave in. We all got matching tattoos. We wanted something strong and beautiful and hey, rose, dagger… it just worked. I don't know how it happened. I was mortified afterwards, absolutely mortified, and I swore I'd never tell anyone but Ginny found out when I came back to Grimmauld Place for your birthday, because we were sharing a room for the rest of the summer and everything, and… and… that's what happened. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. It's just… I'm sorry."

"Okay," Harry said, taking a deep breath and trying to rein in some of his anger, attempting to calm down now that she was being honest with him, "let's move on. When, exactly, did Oliver see it?"

"Um…" Hermione looked even more reluctant to answer this, and even cast a glance behind her, wondering if meeting the giant squid would be so bad after all. "Well… do you, um, well, do you remember the Quidditch World Cup? The summer before our fourth year?"

"My, you get awfully busy during the summers," Draco choked out.

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" Harry screamed, his barely-controlled temper bursting free.

Draco started to reply, and then suddenly his mouth clamped shut—and his lips exploded outward.

"What on earth…?" Hermione said, staring down at his lips, which were so big they wouldn't have been out of place on Grawp.

Draco made a strangled, startled noise in his throat… and then his nose burst out over his lips, as though both nose and mouth had been magnified, quickly followed by his ears, eyes, and, slowly, the rest of his head.

"MMPH!" Draco screamed as his head, now almost as big as the rest of his body, began to rise off the ground. Harry and Hermione stared in horror.

Draco started flailing his arms and legs, his body rising to follow his head. Within a few seconds, Draco was completely airborne, drifting away on the light winter breeze, back towards the castle… and as he lifted higher, so did Hermione's arm.

"Oh, no," Harry whispered, flashing back to the day he'd blown up his aunt Marge, knowing he was going to get in deep trouble for this.

"Harry!" Hermione yelled, snapping him back to the present. Draco was starting to lift her off her feet like a large helium balloon. Preparing for the inevitable, Hermione jumped up and grabbed Draco's legs, clinging tightly so she wouldn't be dragged through the air by her wrist. This seemed to slow Draco down, but only slightly; he was still rising higher and higher.

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed, and made a running leap, grabbing her around the knees. He'd hoped it would bring Draco back down… but Harry and Hermione simply weren't heavy enough.

"POTTER!" Draco screamed, finally able to speak again—but his voiced was as enlarged as his head. "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU _DO?"_

"Lean towards the castle!" Hermione shouted. "We'll climb in a window!"

"Don't worry! I think I know how to deflate him!" Harry called, knowing nothing of the sort but determined to try before they floated off into the wild blue yonder—or over the wild blue ocean. _He_ wasn't chained to Draco; Hermione would dangle, but Harry would die.

"NO!" Hermione yelled. "We're too high! We'll fall! And don't get your wand out, you might drop it!"

Harry groaned, knowing she was right but not liking it anyway. They were now thirty feet above the ground, which was too risky to jump; injuries he could handle, but if he landed wrong—like, say, on his neck—he could end up with some incurable problem or, worse, dead, and there would be nothing Madam Pomfrey, or St. Mungo's for that matter, could do. Besides, he couldn't just leave Hermione to fly off into the sunset with Draco, and that chain made it impossible for them to rid themselves of him without also riding themselves of Hermione—which was a real shame, in Harry's opinion.

"Gargoyle! GARGOYLE!" Draco shouted as they approached a nearby tower.

"AAAAAHHHHH!"

"Swing to the left!"

Harry did his best to throw himself to the left without letting go, and they inched past the sharp stone wings of a gargoyle, narrowly avoiding it.

"There! Lean that way!" Hermione shouted.

"Where?" Harry demanded, as neither he nor Draco could see her point; Harry could only see up her skirt, and Draco was having trouble moving his enormous head.

"There! That open window!"

Harry began to swing back and forth, trying to sway their strange little group to the window above them so that he could hook his legs on something and anchor them… and then, inside the room, pacing around in front of the window, he saw one of the four people responsible for this whole mess—Oliver Wood.

Harry didn't care what secrets Oliver was keeping, and how they concerned Hermione, and just what Oliver had done with her during the summer of the Quidditch World Cup and how he'd seen the tattoo she'd gotten this past summer—all he cared about was getting down.

"WOOD! HELP!"

"Oh, no, not Oliver," Hermione moaned quietly above him.

Oliver looked around in confusion before spotting Draco's inflated head outside the window, which slowly floating past, higher and higher but getting closer, Hermione clinging to Draco's legs with her eyes tightly shut, and finally, one arm firmly around Hermione's knees and the other reaching for the window, was Harry.

Oliver dived for the window, missing Harry's hand but grabbing Harry's leg and yanking. Oliver braced one foot, then the other, against the wall beneath the window ledge, pulling with all his might, fighting the hot-air-balloon-force of Draco's head.

"What the hell is going on?" Oliver demanded as he tugged Harry's legs into the window. Harry was finally drawn inside enough for Oliver to seize his waist, pulling even harder, while Harry tried to haul Hermione closer.

"I'll explain later," Harry grunted, straining with the effort of holding on.

Oliver pulled Harry inside, far enough that his feet touched down. "Grab Hermione and hold her so I can turn around and get a better grip," Harry told Oliver.

Oliver reached out and grabbed Hermione's foot. "I got her."

Harry let go of Hermione's legs and turned around, reaching for her again—but before he could grab her, Hermione's shoe came off in Oliver's hand, freeing her completely from his grip and causing something of a rubber band effect.

"Hermione!" Oliver yelled as he landed hard on his back, still clutching her shoe. Harry made a wiled grab for her but missed, nearly falling to his death out the window.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!" Hermione screamed as she and Draco shot upwards like a rock fired from a slingshot.

"AAAAHHHH!" Draco yelped, too busy trying to get his hands up to push them away from a tower they were zooming straight for to let out a proper yell.

"OLIVER! Damn him!" Hermione wailed. "I knew as soon as he became a teacher here—"

"Shut up, Granger! I SO do not care!" Draco yelled as his head scraped the tower.

"I can't hold on much longer!" Hermione whined, wishing she had just cut off his arm at the beginning of this whole mess. Then Harry would never have found out about her accidental tattoo, and Ron wouldn't be angry, and Oliver never would have let slip that he'd seen her tattoo. God, if she didn't fly off to her death while clinging to Draco's legs, she was going to be in so much trouble…

Suddenly, Hermione felt something wrap around her ankle, and she shuddered to a halt so abruptly that she nearly let go of Draco's legs. Looking down, she saw a thick rope of blue light, tied securely around her ankle and leading back down to the window of the Defense Against the Dark Arts office. About forty feet below, she could just make out the forms of Oliver and Harry, both pulling hard on the magical line from inside Oliver's office.

"I take back the rude things I just said about Oliver," Hermione breathed in relief, thanking every god she'd ever heard of for Oliver Wood, knowing that the spell anchoring her was too advanced for Harry to know. "He's wonderful. He's awesome. He's—"

"I still don't care, Granger," Draco said wearily, relaxing slightly and trying to calm down now that they were about to be rescued.

Inside the office, Harry and Oliver were pulling the conjured rope back inside the classroom slowly, foot by foot—which was by no means easy. Hermione and Draco, when combined, weren't exactly light, and between the wind and Draco's head's determination to see the world from a bird's eye view, tugging them back to the window was made even harder.

"Just… a… thought…" Harry grunted, "but I don't… think Malfoy's… gonna fit… through the… window."

"We'll handle… that… when Hermione's… safe," Oliver panted. "Harry… take the end… and tie it… to something heavy…"

Oliver took over the pulling on the rope, straining a bit more but holding his own, having always been well-built. Harry grabbed the end of the magical rope, from which Oliver's wand was dangling, and looked around for something weighty enough to anchor Hermione and Draco while Harry and Oliver tugged them all the way inside.

"Hurry, Harry," Oliver said, "I think… his head's getting bigger!"

Harry's eyes finally rested on Oliver's large mahogany desk, and he dashed forward and began tying the rope to one of the legs as fast as he could without damaging Oliver's wand. "Okay, it's tied!" Harry called, and headed back to help Oliver…

And promptly tripped over the blue light rope, smacked into Oliver, and sent them both flying to the side.

Hermione felt a slight jolt, but didn't have time to wonder about it before she shot up into the air again; she could hear two shocked yells, a loud CRASH! of breaking glass and an anguished cry of, "MY DESK!" from below.

A strong yank on her leg nearly pulled her off of Draco, and she found herself falling at an alarming rate. She closed her eyes, certain that this was the end, that somehow Draco's head had deflated and they were going to go crashing back to the ground…

Then they were flying upward again, as though they'd bounced off some invisible surface, and only when they bumped gently to a stop did Hermione open her eyes and glance around.

They were hovering in the air, some twenty feet away from the wall where Oliver's window was, and below them, fifty or so feet down, half-sunk into the ground, was a large wooden desk, which she assumed was Oliver's.

"Hermione!" Harry bellowed from the window. "You okay?"

"Oh, I'm just _fine,_ Harry!" Hermione yelled. "I'm just GRAND!"

"Hold on, Hermione!" Harry shouted.

"GEE, DO YOU THINK, POTTER!" Draco screamed, his voice echoing around the grounds.

"I'm coming, Mione!" shouted a new voice, and Hermione looked around in bewilderment.

Zooming towards them on a broomstick was Ron, a determined look on his face. "RON!" she called happily. Draco groaned.

Ron stopped his Cleansweep next to her, hovering in midair and giving her a lopsided grin. "I leave you alone for two seconds, and look what happens," he said, shaking his head.

"You don't know how happy I am to see you!" Hermione cried, on the verge of bursting into tears in relief. She wanted to throw her arms around him, but knew letting go of Draco would land her in a world of pain.

Ron looked at her, her head in between Draco's knees, clinging tightly to Draco, a thick blue cord of light wrapped around her ankle. Her hair was even bushier than usual, windblown as it was, and the look on her face could only be described as pitiful. Ron actually had an urge to go "Aw." He looked up at Draco, who was doing his best to look down, but found this rather difficult due to the buoyancy and size of his head.

"Climb on," Ron said, maneuvering the broom beneath her and letting her drop down onto it. She released Draco's legs, then quickly grabbed hold of his ankle; letting him go put a strain on her wrist and had caused Draco's body to tip and float sideways.

"Oh, thank you," Hermione said breathlessly, leaning back against him. Ron put his arm around her waist and she laced her fingers with his, her other hand holding tightly to Draco.

Ron pointed the broom at the ground and down they went, Hermione with her eyes tightly shut (she wasn't a big fan of flying, and had already had more than enough of it for one day). "By the way, Malfoy," Ron called, "that's a nice look. Now your head matches your ego."

"Both bigger than they should be," Hermione giggled, feeling pretty close to happy. She had Ron, the crisis was averted, and in some strange roundabout way she secretly thought the accident with Oliver's desk and window served him right for letting slip that he'd seen her tattoo.

They reached the ground, but were at a loss as to what to do; not even Hermione knew how to literally deflate someone's head, and they couldn't just walk into the castle; the broom's power and the anchoring weight of the desk were all that kept them from floating off. Still, they couldn't fly far while trailing a huge desk.

"What now?" Ron asked.

"Hmm," Hermione said thoughtfully. Giving the desk an appraising look, Hermione pulled out her wand.

* * *

Madam Pomfrey was having a nice, normal, patient-free day. She hadn't had to treat any students for anything—injury or prank war related—since the scales she'd removed from Harry, Ron and Hermione, and she was enjoying her most peaceful weekend since the year started. She was sitting in her office, her feet propped up on her desk, mug of soothing chamomile tea in one hand and an old issue of _Witch Weekly_ in the other, when she heard the voice of her most frequent patient.

"I am so, so, _so_ sorry, Hermione!"

The groan that left Madam Pomfrey's lips could have come from a dying animal rather than an exasperated nurse. Wearily putting down her tea and magazine, she stood and turned to see just what horrible fate had befallen Harry Potter now… and gaped at the sight before her.

Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger were climbing off of a Cleansweep Nine just inside the door, Hermione looking bedraggled and Ron looking rather amused. Standing apologetically next to Hermione was Harry, who looked like he felt horribly guilt about something. Oliver Wood was standing near the doorway, looking torn between running (he kept shooting worried glances at Harry, for some reason), comforting Hermione, and checking the condition of a large mahogany desk, which was covered in grass, mud and broken glass, tied to Hermione's ankle by a Pavorian Spell, and blocking the bottom half of the door. Blocking the top half of the door was an abnormally large head, which couldn't seem to get through the door. All Madam Pomfrey could really see of it was a lot of blond hair—but it didn't take long to figure out just who the head belong to, as the owner's right arm was stretched towards Hermione's left, no doubt connected by an invisible chain.

"That's it, I've had it," Madam Pomfrey said irritably. "If you lot don't graduate on time, I quit."

* * *

_End Notes:_ Readers who've been with this story from way back when will notice a few major changes in the tattoo and Oliver tales. I wanted them to seem more plausible, and I'm doing my best to get them that way. I hope it's still as funny as it was back then. 


	16. Return of the Weasley Twins

**Chapter Fifteen**

_Return of the Weasley Twins_

Hermione enjoyed the rest of the afternoon immensely. Harry felt horrible about putting her through the whole ordeal; not only did he refrain from asking a single thing about Oliver, the tattoo, or Snape (which was due to both guilt and Ron's presence), but he kept doing little things for her and being a complete sweetheart. Ron was also being extra nice, partially because he'd just patched up his friendship with Harry, and partially because he was feeling a tad guilty himself, mostly for letting her deal with Malfoy on her own. Oliver stayed only shortly, acting awkward for the most part before, at Hermione's assurance that she was fine, rushing off to deal with the desk.

Coolest of all, however, was that, after removing half the wall to get him into the room and then repairing the wall with very cool magic all around, Malfoy had been tied to a hospital cot and ordered not to speak while Madam Pomfrey tried to find a cure.

"If he'd blown up all of you, this would be a snap," Madam Pomfrey said wearily, "but I'm not quite sure how to deflate just the head… the antidote would shrink all of you, not just your head… hmm…"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other and burst out laughing, all of them thinking of a mini-Draco with a normal-sized head. Draco glowered but didn't speak, not wanting to interrupt Madam Pomfrey's search for a cure.

Madam Pomfrey finally found the cure shortly before dinner. She came out of her office, held up a large, thick book on wizarding medicine and exclaimed triumphantly, "All we have to do is cover his head in the antidote potion and sprinkle on some cinnamon!"

"WHAT?" Draco yelped.

So, in addition to her friends' attitudes and Draco being ordered to be quiet, Hermione got to watch him seethe while his entire head was covered in a bright pink potion.

* * *

Oliver walked wearily back towards his office, his muddy, beaten-up, once-beautiful desk floating along behind him. He had loved that desk. A lot. And now, it was going to need a heck of a lot to restore it.

As if the desk wasn't enough, he also had to deal with the fact that once Harry's guilt wore off, Harry would certainly want to know just how Oliver knew about that tattoo, and it didn't take a genius to realize that neither Harry nor Ron would be too happy with the details. Oliver really didn't want to upset Harry; he owed Harry a lot. If Harry had never won the Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor, Oliver's team never would have gotten any recognition in the professional Quidditch world and getting onto Puddlemere would have been that much harder. Besides which, he counted Harry as a friend—Harry, Ron, and Hermione, really, even though Hermione had been really awkward around him ever since he'd started teaching. He'd been looking forward to seeing Hermione again—and had been thoroughly disappointed that about her dating Ron, but had done his best to get over it. Now, if Harry and Ron found out just what Oliver and Hermione had done in the past, chances were Harry and Ron were going to have major issues, and Oliver didn't want that, for him or for Hermione.

He was so lost in thought that it took him a second to realize someone was talking to him—two someones, actually: Fred and George Weasley.

"Oliver? What are you _doing?"_ Fred asked, looking from Oliver to the floating desk curiously.

"Oh—nothing," Oliver said quickly. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Heard about all the interesting stuff going on," George said promptly.

"Well, technically, we thought we would come check on Pig and get a free breakfast—" Fred admitted.

"But then we ran into Ron down by Hagrid's hut—"

"And he told us all about what's been going on," Fred continued. "You know, the prank war—Snape, Hermione, Malfoy, and now this chain thing—"

"He told you everything? Even about the tattoo?" Oliver exclaimed, his jaw dropping.

"What tattoo?" George said, frowning. "I don't recall anything about a tattoo, do you, Fred?" Fred shook his head and the twins turned to look at Oliver expectantly.

"Heh," Oliver said, gulping. He wanted to kick himself; of _course_ Ron wouldn't have mentioned the tattoo. Ron didn't even know about it. "Well, darn… I… I don't know what they were talking about, either! I was hoping you guys could fill me in."

The twins did their simultaneous-skeptical-eyebrow-raise, which was really rather creepy. Oliver felt a sudden urge to back away slowly, round the nearest corner, and run like he'd never run before. Oliver gave them his best innocent smile, and they simultaneously crossed their arms over their chests. Oliver knew instantly what was coming. The twins were preparing to drag Oliver's deepest, darkest secrets from him if Oliver didn't either crack and explain or crack and make a break for it.

"Well, I have to get my desk back to my office," Oliver said hastily, and quickly turned tail, heading in the opposite direction as fast as he could without running.

Fred grabbed his arm before Oliver could get far, however. "Your office is the other way, Oliver," he said firmly.

"Yes, why don't we walk you to it, so you don't get _lost?"_ George said, grabbing Oliver's other arm.

Oliver sighed and allowed himself to be led back to his office by his old friends, admitting defeat, knowing he was as beaten as his pitiful desk. _Note to self,_ he thought wearily, _I need to develop my ability to make a good exit.

* * *

_

Madam Pomfrey kicked Harry and Ron out of the hospital wing shortly before the seventh years' curfew, and they both promised to come back early in the morning. Hermione spent a couple of hours studying for her exams (Harry had offered to bring her up some books), which started Monday, and then settled in to get some sleep, smiling at Draco's gigantic pink face and hair before closing her eyes.

Her eyes flew open two seconds later, however, as she heard a cry of "MIONE!" before something large and heavy landed on her stomach.

"OOF!" she groaned, and looked up to see Fred Weasley lying on her. "Fred, what—?"

"MIONE!"

"NO! OOF!" George jumped on the bed too, the twins grinning at her exasperated look. "What are you doing here?" Hermione demanded.

"Came to collect—you asked me to have sex with you in the library, remember?" Fred said, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. Hermione glared at him and Draco let out a snort of laughter.

Fred and George turned to see where the laugh came from—and both recoiled at the sight of an enormous pink floating ball in the shape of Draco's head watching them. "AAAHHHH!" George yelped, having instinctively backed away and fallen right off the bed.

"What the hell is _that?"_ Fred demanded, putting Hermione in between him and Draco, just in case.

"That would be Draco Malfoy," Hermione said, her lips twitching in amusement at the look on Draco's face—which looked even funnier from the angle she was being held in as Fred used her as a human shield.

"Jesus Christ, Hermione, what did you _do_ to him?" George asked curiously, standing up and looking at Draco warily.

"You've _got_ to teach us how to do that," Fred said eagerly, no doubt looking for joke shop merchandise.

"I didn't do it," Hermione said with a giggle. "It was Harry and Madam Pomfrey."

_"Madam Pomfrey_ is in on the prank war? Wicked!"

"Hogwarts really _has_ changed! First Snape, now _Pomfrey?"_

Hermione laughed at the startled-yet-pleased looks on their faces and began to explain, having too good a day to be annoyed by their comments and jokes, and found the twins to be quite good company—especially as Draco shot glare after glare at them, probably having his sleep disrupted and not liking the subject matter (which was pretty much all about the ways she, Harry, and Ron had tortured him, including the recent floating head incident).

"If there's one thing Malfoy didn't need, it was his head inflated anymore than it was," George joked, shifting slightly on Hermione's bed. The twins and Hermione were all sitting cross-legged on her cot, chatting away.

"Tell me about it," Hermione said, smirking a little.

"Still, the only bad thing about it was that Ron left in the middle of our conversation with him," George said. "He was venting all about the prank war, but just when he was getting to the good part—why he was so angry at Harry, namely—we heard someone scream—"

"Which apparently was you, when Harry and Oliver let go of the chain," Fred interrupted.

"—and Ron went flying off to the rescue," George finished.

"It was this whole cheesy hero scene," Fred added. "The scream of a damsel in distress, the look of determination settling on ickle Ronniekin's face, and then _whoosh!_ He goes soaring off on his broomstick."

Hermione giggled, picturing the scene as if viewing it in some old-fashioned Muggle film. Then she frowned. "Wait… neither of you seems shocked about me being chained to Malfoy."

"We already knew," Fred said with a shrug.

"Who told you?" Hermione demanded, but neither twin noticed her sharp tone.

"Oliver, of course."

_"Oliver?" I'll kill him!_ Hermione thought furiously.

"Yeah, strangest thing—we talked to him earlier today, and said that Ron had told us everything—" George began mischievously.

"And Oliver just sort of blurted out, 'even about the tattoo?'"

"So of course we had to know more…"

"And when Oliver tried to run for it, we dragged him back to his office and beat the story out of him," Fred finished cheerfully, as though this was a perfectly natural thing to do. "Told us what Dumbledore said about the fight in the office, and then told us a bit about trying to haul you through the window… and, with a little, um, encouragement, he told us that apparently Harry was so pissed off about you keeping secrets that he accidentally inflated Malfoy." Fred leaned closer to her eagerly. "One of which has something to do with you having a tattoo. Oliver wouldn't say much—"

"Like how he knows about it—" George added.

"But we can guess that, naturally—"

"So we figured the important thing was why you of all people have a tattoo—"

"And came up here to get the story out of you," Fred finished with a gleam in his eye.

"There is no tattoo!" Hermione insisted, folding her arms over her chest and glowering over at Draco, who smirked back at her (though the effect was rather diminished by the pink potion).

"No?" Fred said, narrowing his eyes at her. "Tell me, are your knees still ticklish?"

"And your feet?" George added, grinning.

"And your stomach?"

"And the back of your neck?"

Hermione stared at them in horror. She had spent a lot of time with the twins over the years—especially while cooped up in Grimmauld Place for the past few summers, when Harry was still on Privet Drive, as Ginny spent a lot of time with Bill, her favorite brother, and Hermione and Ron spent a lot of time arguing, which often ended in one of them storming off in a huff. The twins were often fun to hang out with; she usually needed a laugh during the dark times with Voldemort, and often hung out with them even when Ginny was available and Ron hadn't gotten Hermione angry. The five of them spent a lot of time together, also, being the only teenagers in the house. The twins were part of the reason Oliver had gotten closer to Harry, Ron and Hermione once Oliver had joined the war effort. The twins had discovered quite a bit more about her than they should—like the fact that she was one of the most ticklish people on the planet.

"You wouldn't dare," she said uncertainly.

"Want to try us?" Fred said pleasantly.

Hermione looked from Fred to George nervously. Before she could come up with a good response, the twins launched themselves at her. Fred got her ribs, George got her knees, and Hermione started shrieking with laughter.

"Oh… haha! Stop! I'll… hahaha! Quit it!"

"Gonna talk?"

"No! HAHAHA! Knock it off!"

"How about now?"

"No! Oh… hey! O-okay, I'll talk! HAHA! Stop! I'll talk! STOP!"

After about seven minutes of Hermione promising to tell them everything, the twins finally let up. Hermione, having laughed too much to give them a proper glare, told them the whole story, much more than she'd told Harry—and found it wasn't as upsetting as telling anyone else would have been. The twins thought the story was just as shocking-in-a-funny-way as Ginny had found it, only they seemed to… well, _respect_ her for it. That Hermione would do anything as rebellious as get a tattoo—even if she wouldn't have gotten it under normal circumstances—was a thing of awe, and something that deserved a pat on the back as much as it deserved teasing.

"So… it's a sword with a rose wrapped around it?" George said as Hermione ended her tale. "Why'd you choose that?"

Hermione shrugged. "It looked really pretty—and don't you dare ask if you can see it!" she added, seeing both twins open their mouths with eager, evil sort of expressions on their faces. Apparently she'd guessed their intentions correctly, as both promptly shut their mouths and glanced at each other with mischievous grins. "I don't know… I was sort of… high on the rebellion just then. My friends were all about teenage stupidity, and I'd just thrown the entire world for a loop… and we wanted something pretty, but something that showed our friendship was strong—something tough. I was actually the one who suggested it. I just… seemed to fit me. The dagger seemed to symbolize being a fighter, and the rose seemed to soften it, make it look pretty and poetic and sort of… thoughtful."

"Like you," Fred said, his face too straight to be serious. Then he smiled broadly. "So, only one question remains, then—what, exactly, happened that Oliver saw it?"

Hermione blushed furiously. "I'm not telling. Not even if you tickle me until I'm forty. I will never, _ever_ tell _anyone,_ understand?"

The twins looked at each other, shrugged, gave Hermione enough time to think they were going to let it lie, and then dove at her, tickling her mercilessly once again.

Before Hermione could give up and spill the story, Madam Pomfrey emerged from her private quarters just off the hospital wing. "What are you _doing_ in he—_oh, no!"_ she moaned at the sight of the Weasley twins, who had not only put plenty of people in the hospital wing during their years at Hogwarts, but had been a real handful whenever they became her patients.

"Hi, Madam Pomfrey! Did you miss us?" George said cheerfully as he and Fred sat up.

"What are _you_ doing here?" she whined, sounding a lot like an unhappy student.

"We're having a pajama party, can't you tell?" Fred said, casting an illusion on his clothes to make them look like incredibly silly pink-and-white bunny pajamas, complete with floppy-eared, fuzzy bunny slippers. George followed suit. "Came by for a visit, and Dumbledore said we could stay."

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "Just… Just keep it down and get some sleep, will you?" she muttered, turning on her heel and retreating to her room.

The twins grinned and turned back to tickle Hermione some more—but their absence had given her time to draw her wand, and both of them knew better than to try anything.

"Oh, fine then," Fred said sulkily. "But there are other, more effective ways of making you talk!"

"Yes, and we'll use them just as soon as we figure out what they are!" George agreed.

Hermione laughed. "Go get some sleep, you two. I'm tired. Where are you staying, in one of the guest rooms?"

"To tell you the truth, we hadn't planned on it, no," George said. "That was a line for Pomfrey, actually, so she wouldn't kick us out. We were just going to drop by, visit a few people, eat a decent meal—"

"Told you we should have taken the time to learn to cook before moving out of Mum's house," Fred muttered.

"—and then head home, but we may as well stay, yeah," George continued. He glanced around. "Mind if we stay in the hospital wing with you, though? We'd have to wake Dumbledore up to get a password for a spare room… besides, I never get tired of looking at that." He jerked his head at Draco's pink head, which was shrinking but still pretty large.

"Unless you want to give us the password to your room and we can crash in there," Fred said with a grin.

"The day I give you two my password is the day I install bear traps around all the entrances," Hermione said dryly. "Go ahead and stay here, I don't mind. It's actually kind of nice to not be alone with Malfoy attached to my wrist."

"While we're on the subject of nice things, want to have sex in the hospital wing, since you never followed through on the library?" Fred asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Oh, shut up, Fred," Hermione laughed, pushing him off of her bed.


	17. Seven Years of Pent Up Anger

**Chapter Sixteen**

_Seven Years of Pent-Up Anger_

Harry and Ron came by bright and early on Sunday morning, along with Ginny, who'd been filled in on the previous days' events and expressed her deepest regrets about missing the whole thing. Oliver also arrived, feeling obligated to check on Hermione's well-being—although thankfully the twins had already left to go visit other friends, and as such weren't there to try and get either Hermione or Oliver to talk. Draco's head was almost back to normal, though he was covered in globs of congealed pink potion and thoroughly grouchy.

"I brought you a spare change of clothes," Ginny told Hermione cheerfully, holding out a skirt that Hermione never wore (because of how short it was) and a low-cut, tight sweater, along with a bra, underwear, socks and robes. Hermione rolled her eyes but accepted them without complaint, and they turned to figuring out how to Draco and Hermione were going to shower in the hospital wing's bathroom.

Showering was even worse for Hermione than it had been during her first night chained to Draco; Draco kept involuntarily floating up to the ceiling, which meant he could see over the curtain, so he had to be watched carefully by Harry, Ron, and—of all people—Oliver, who, as a teacher, was given the task by Madam Pomfrey while she tended to a fourth-year whose legs were covered in large green blotches. Hermione showered as fast as possible, constantly glancing up to make sure Draco wasn't looking in on her and nervously watching the edges of the curtain, embarrassed about having Harry, Ron and Oliver there. By the time she was ready to come out, Ginny had gotten the bright idea to temporarily blind Draco (which, needless to say, he wasn't happy about, but he couldn't do anything, as Oliver approved the idea) and then banish the other guys from the room so Hermione could towel off and get dressed. Even with Draco unable to see and Harry, Ron and Oliver gone, Hermione threw on her clothes in record time, even deciding to forego wearing robes (which she later regretted, given the stylish, skin-showing outfit Ginny had picked out).

Hermione was forced to let Ginny toy with her hair, as it was completely unmanageable from not showering the night before and from having to be blown dry. By the time Ginny got her hair dry and the two of them could agree on a style (two braids, which was simple enough for Hermione but looked cute enough for Ginny), Draco's head was regularly sized once more and he was able to scrub off the last of the antidote in the shower. He was thoroughly pissed that Ginny had gone through his trunk in order to bring him fresh clothes, but as there hadn't been any way for him to get clothing without showing off his pink head to half the students at Hogwarts and Ginny completely ignored his ranting, he soon gave up on berating her and showered quickly.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Draco left the hospital wing, dropped off Draco and Hermione's belongings, and headed down to breakfast, saying good-bye to Oliver, who muttered something about grading papers and hurried off to his office. Along the way to the Great Hall, they found the twins, who were on the third floor, cordially greeting Peeves, who had abandoned his pursuit of terrorizing some second years in favor of reuniting with his fellow pranksters.

"Miss you, I do," Peeves said sadly. "No one else appreciates the art of mischief the way you did."

"Don't worry, Peeves, before we go we'll pick out a nice, promising first year and train them in the ways of the practical joker," Fred promised solemnly before the twins followed Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Draco down to breakfast.

They all chatted away during breakfast, except for Draco, who, apart from being sulky, was rather sleep deprived (it isn't easy to sleep with an enlarged, floating head, you know). Hermione dug out the schedule she'd gotten from Oliver; not much of it had changed, really. The sixth and seventh years had fewer classes, as they were permitted to drop courses, and as such most of the classes had students from all four houses instead of just one or two, save Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms and Transfiguration, which were arguably the three most important courses, and few people had dropped them because of the war. Hermione had already been taking Potions, Arithmancy, Charms and Herbology with Draco, and they both had dropped History of Magic and Astronomy, so it only took a little rearranging to make sure that they could make all of their classes. She would still get to spend most of her regular classes with Harry and Ron, who were in six of her eight classes, and would only have to split up with them during Transfiguration, which she was now attending with the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs so that she could attend Draco's Muggle Studies.

After breakfast, they went down to Hagrid's hut (after threatening Draco until he followed them sullenly), Ron staring morosely at Pig, who was currently six-and-a-half feet tall, fully owl and as hyperactive as ever (judging by the way he flapped his wings and attempting to "affectionately nip" Draco, who panicked and nearly wet himself. Draco behaved himself as they chatted with Hagrid until lunch time, only letting out the occasional snort or laugh; he actually seemed rather interested in the interior of Hagrid's hut, having only been in there once (and having been rather distracted at the time, as he was hiding from some of Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts with the majority of the fourth-year Care of Magical Creatures class). Fred, George, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Draco eventually made their way back to the castle for lunch, and Hermione was just reflecting on how nice and incident-free the day had been (if you didn't count the whispers and stares she'd received during breakfast, thanks to Draco and the rumors) when they reached the Great Hall entrance and stopped dead. While plenty of students were sitting at the Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables, both the Slytherin and staff tables were entirely empty.

"Run!" Hermione yelled, certain that there was about to be some horrible school-wide prank and that the Slytherins had somehow managed to keep the staff away.

Harry, Ron, and Draco turned right around with her, thinking the same thing, but neither twin moved and Ginny grabbed Hermione's arm.

"Don't be ridiculous, Herm," she said calmly. "Either the entire Slytherin house is getting a stern talking-to, or someone did something to their dormitory—or them—and the staff has gone to sort it out."

"Yeah, that's what I'd say," Fred said, giving the hall a critical look as though checking for hidden traps.

"Me too—if they were going to do something to the hall, they'd want to be here to see it," George added.

"Are you sure?" Hermione said uncertainly.

"Hey, if anyone would know, it would be us," Fred assured her, and they went inside to eat. A good portion of the Gryffindor table seemed to have been reserved for them, as no one else in Gryffindor really wanted the pleasure of sitting next to Draco Malfoy.

Lavender and Parvati approached them after they'd sat down, however, both smiling brightly at Hermione, who had to bite back a groan. Whenever there was a rumor about Hermione, Lavender and Parvati had a tendency to get her alone and gang up on her, and had apparently realized that they weren't going to be able to do so until Hermione was sharing a dormitory with them again.

"Hi, Hermione," Lavender said sweetly. "How are you?"

"Fine, thanks, you?" Hermione responded coolly, hoping they'd go away soon enough.

"Good," Parvati said. Lavender nodded. "Did you hear about the Slytherins, Hermione? Someone's booby-trapped their dormitory; they can't get in or out without sprouting red and gold fur all over their bodies."

Fred and George both began whistling innocently, grinning as they did so. Hermione shot them an amused look while Harry, Ron and Ginny giggled and Draco glared.

"The teachers are all down there trying to fix it," Lavender added. "At least, according to _rumor,_ they are." She gave Hermione a significant look.

"Shouldn't Dumbledore be able to fix that pretty easily?" Harry asked, frowning.

"He _should_ be able to, but they caught another fugitive Death Eater—"

"Who?" everyone demanded at once.

"Someone named Mulciber," Lavender said indifferently. "Anyway, as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Dumbledore felt obligated to go to the Ministry and talk to some of the people there."

"Do you know who caught him?" Draco asked.

"Yeah, it was some female Auror with a funny name—Nympha-something To—"

"Thanks for the update, Lav," Hermione interrupted, knowing Lavender hated that nickname and hoping that using it would get Lavender to get to the point. Hermione was interested in Mulciber's capture, but they had more reliable sources than Lavender and Parvati for that sort of information. More importantly, Hermione wasn't sure it was a good idea to let Draco hear such information.

"You're welcome… we've, um, heard a few _rumors_ about you, too, Hermione," Parvati ventured carefully.

"If they have anything to do with a tattoo or Snape, they're false," she said irritably.

Lavender and Parvati looked like they wanted to say more, but figured that Harry, Ron, and Ginny (all of whom had stony looks on their faces) wouldn't allow them to annoy Hermione into giving any more answers, and the two girls left, disappointed. Hermione rolled her eyes. "I will be so glad when I don't have to share a dormitory with them anymore," she said.

"What rumors about Snape and tattoos were they talking about?" Ron asked, confused. He hadn't been in the room when Draco had brought up the hickeys, and he hadn't been in the common room when Draco had mentioned the tattoo, and, having spent the previous day mostly alone or in the hospital wing with Hermione, he had yet to hear anything about it.

"The one about the tattoo on Hermione's butt," Fred said promptly, unaware of Ron's ignorance in the matter. Hermione choked on her pumpkin juice, her eyes wide.

"Duh, Ron, what other tattoo would they be talking about?" George said.

"What tattoo on Hermione's butt?" Ron demanded.

"Oh, where have you been, Weasley?" Draco said, jumping into the conversation with relish. "Everyone in school knows about that, thanks to me. Although I do believe Wood and the Little Weasel already knew." He watched with glee as Ron's neck and ears went red. "I suppose Potter, Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber are the only ones who've gotten the full story on it, though."

"Excuse me?" Ron said, glaring around at Fred, George, Harry, Ginny and Hermione.

"Don't worry, Weasel," Draco added, making sure to get one last comment in to piss Ron off. "She's kept everyone in the dark about the hickeys Snape put on her neck, so don't feel _too_ left out."

Ron's eyes widened and a look of such utter rage came over his features that Hermione scooted away from him slightly. Without another word, Ron jumped up and stormed angrily from the hall.

"I'll go talk to him," Harry and Ginny said in unison, both jumping up.

"We'll come, too," Fred and George added quickly, realizing their mistake and knowing that their only chance of survival was to run for it, but Harry put a hand on each of their shoulders and forced them back into their seats.

"Oh, no, you won't," Harry said firmly. _"You're_ going to stay here and face Hermione's wrath." Harry turned and ran to catch up with Ginny, who was hot on Ron's heels.

"We're really sorry, Hermione," Fred said desperately as the furious look on her face grew to resemble Ron's.

"We didn't know he didn't know," George added.

"We wouldn't have mentioned it if we did."

"Yeah, we wouldn't do that."

"Honest!"

If they hadn't added that word, Hermione probably could have calmed herself down. However, "honest" was the word that Snape had used when waving a tequila bottle at Draco, which had gotten Ginny thinking that Draco thought Hermione had had sex with Snape, which had probably given Harry the idea to _make_ Malfoy think Hermione _had _had sex with Snape. If that hadn't happened, Hermione never would have let Snape put hickeys on her neck, which had not only been disturbing but was probably about to ruin her relationship with Ron, who could have gotten over the tattoo but would probably never forgive her for something like what she'd done with Snape, which he would never understand. Therefore, Hermione's status as a taken woman was about to be in serious jeopardy, and all because of the word "honest" and, in part, because of the Weasley twins.

"We wouldn't do that to our brother, or you, we mean it!" Fred insisted as Hermione's black expression darkened even more.

It might be a good idea to note that Hermione's brain could be compared to an office building. One part of her brain was devoted purely to information, filled metaphorically with filing cabinets and manned by a less emotional version of herself. So it wasn't that Hermione didn't hear the Weasley twins' pleas, it was simply that she couldn't be bothering with listening at the moment. As such, the comments were filed away in a little folder marked "Weasley Twins" and stored in the cabinet labeled "People to Eventually Forgive," right in between "Cornelius Fudge" and "The Guy Who Invented High Heels."

Fred and George saw Hermione go for her wand and both quickly waved their own before shouting _"Protegara!"_ which the information-devoted part of Hermione's brain recognized as a highly advanced, complex Shield Charm that blocked out the majority of unfriendly spells for a good five minutes and had been taught to Fred and George by the Order of the Phoenix when the twins had left school and joined up. She turned to the "logic and strategy" area of her mind and realized that the spell only blocked curses—not sharp instruments.

Hermione reached for her fork and knife—and found only spoons next to all of the plates within six feet of hers. She'd been so busy glaring at the twins that she hadn't noticed that, in anticipation of just such a reaction, they'd stolen every fork, knife and serving utensil in the immediate area.

_Spoons are weapons too!_ exclaimed the strategic part of Hermione, and she picked hers up, glancing around for ammunition, determined to get Fred and George, even if she had to do it Muggle-style.

_Ah-ha! Mashed potatoes!_ Standing and scooping up a heaping spoonful of the delicious potatoes (no doubt made with slave elf labor, which made her even angrier), Hermione aimed the potato-side of the spoon at Fred (he had to die first, as he'd said the evil word "honest"), drew back the tip until her spoon was bent at roughly a forty-five degree angle, and let go. With a faint _ping!_ the mashed potatoes went soaring through the air, through the invisible magical barrier surrounding Fred, and splattered on his forehead. While Fred was still trying to process this event through his shock, another glob of potatoes smacked George in the face, and then, quite suddenly, Hermione's logical side, only slightly warped by fury, cut through again.

_This is all Malfoy's fault._

And so a third, much larger scoop of mashed potatoes smacked the laughing Draco Malfoy full in the face.

Draco froze, stunned, a look of disbelief on his face, as though he was completely unable to fathom that anyone would _dare_ fire a lump of potatoes at him. The look on his face seemed to satisfy her anger somewhat, because she smiled as she stared coldly down at him. Slowly, ever so slowly, Draco turned to look at her, his face utterly blank. And suddenly, every horrible thing that had happened to him over the past two months came bubbling to the surface. Snape, the only teacher who liked him, staring at Draco the way Snape stared at Potter, furious. Snape, supposedly shagging Granger. Granger, undressing Draco and putting him in women's underwear. Ernie Macmillan, pointing his Quidditch team off in different directions to make sure everyone knew Draco was tied to the goalpost. Snape, telling lies for Weasley and Granger. Draco waking up floating over the lake, staring down at the tentacles of the giant squid, completely covered in red and gold stripes. Draco walking into the dormitory and getting hit by flying chimp feces, being bitten viciously on the arm by the chimp itself before racing from the dormitory. The Bludger that hit Crabbe, causing Draco to be crushed between Crabbe's enormous body and the ground. Then, the duel between Dean Thomas and Ginny Weasley. He'd been looking forward to seeing someone else give Weasley hell—and the next thing he knew, he was chained to Granger. Sharing a room with Granger and Potter, having his head inflated, being called a Death Eater, the fistfight, the petrifaction, the—

With a strangled yell, Draco's arm shot out, grabbed his goblet of pumpkin juice and threw the contents at Hermione's face. She winced, wiped her eyes, picked up the entire bowl of mashed potatoes, and smashed the food into his face like a clown would a pie. Even as she took the bowl away, leaving a mashed potato mask on his face, Draco was squeezing a bottle of mustard at her, squirting quite a bit on her leg (he couldn't aim too well, thanks to the potatoes) until Hermione snatched the bottle and returned the favor. Wiping the potatoes out of his eye area, Draco turned away, his arms up for protection, and looked around for something messy. There, about two feet out of his reach, was a bowl of beef stew.

Draco jumped up and dove across the table, Hermione taking the opportunity to unscrew the lid on the mustard and dump the rest of the contents on his head. Fred was pushing the bowl of beef stew farther away, so Draco leaped on the table and snatched the bowl. He turned around to toss it at Hermione, but found she was already behind him, standing on the table and holding a dish filled with Buffalo wings. She overturned it on him, the bones smacking him and the sauce leaving little reddish-brown stains wherever they hit.

"GO HERMIONE!" yelled Neville Longbottom from down the table.

"GET HIM!" shouted Ernie from the Hufflepuff table.

_"Hermione, catch!"_ called Anthony Goldstein, and in a move that would have made Harry proud, Hermione caught a bottle of honey thrown by the Ravenclaw prefect. She quickly dropped it, however, when a wave of hot beef stew went flying at her; she only just turned her back in time.

"I've got ten Galleons on Mione to win!" Fred yelled, mashed potatoes still clinging to his forehead. He and George had long since abandoned the table in an attempt to save themselves.

Hermione retrieved the bottle of honey, yanked the chain to pull him over onto his back, put her foot on Draco's chest to hold him down, and began to pour. Draco grabbed her ankle and tugged, causing Hermione to lose her balance and land hard on the table. His arm was jerked forwards as she fell and he quickly sat up to avoid any unnecessary pain—then saw a bowl of ice, set out for those who preferred iced pumpkin juice, just past her head. He hopped up and ran for the bowl, only to have his legs knocked out from under him by Hermione. He landed on his back, his head right by her knees… and an idea struck him just as she prepared to stand.

Hermione suddenly found Draco sitting on her stomach, his legs pinning her arms down to her sides, his fingers groping at her knees and tickling. Hermione burst out laughing, struggling to get out from under him. "I'll teach you to piss me off!" Draco yelled, as though he was torturing her in the worst way possible, rather than tickling her.

"Go for the eyes, Mione!" George shouted.

Hermione did just that, her legs flying up and smashing Draco in the face, knocking him back on top of her and giving her the chance to push him off. She rolled over and knelt on his back to keep him down. Colin and Dennis Creevey shoved a platter of pork chops down the table to her, and she grabbed a fistful of them, holding tight to keep from dropping them, dripping mushroom cream sauce all over Draco's back as she moved towards his collar. Draco writhed, his attempts to dislodge her becoming more and more violent as she shoved pork chop after pork chop down the back of his shirt. Eventually she jumped off, standing at the ready as Draco got up, flinging the last two pork chops at him and watching them momentarily stick to him before flopping off.

Unfortunately, she was now out of weapons. Draco knew he needed every second to get one up on her, and, rather than remove the pork chops from his shirt, he dove for the closest bowls that hadn't been destroyed by their little tickle/pork chop fight—a bowl of cherries and another two of sugar.

Hermione went for the sugar at the same time, but only managed to grab the white sugar; Draco still had the brown. He seized the front of her shirt, pouring both cherries and sugar down it. Hermione squealed at the thoroughly odd feeling and, seeing her guard was down, Draco snatched the white sugar from her. She just had time to squeeze her eyes shut as an explosion of sugar hit her, sticking to the pumpkin juice on her face and hair from Draco's original attack.

"BOOOOO!" shouted Fred, and many of the students booed along with him.

"Go for the hair, Mione! Go for the hair!" George yelled.

Saving that idea for later, Hermione went for the ketchup instead. Draco saw it coming and was able to duck, the ketchup squirting all over his already-stained back. He started running along the now-empty table, Hermione chasing him. (By now, the Gryffindors had all abandoned their plates, fearful of getting caught in the crossfire, and were standing by the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables, snacking absently on the other houses' food while they cheered for Hermione.) Hermione stopped dead, however, when she saw Draco swoop down and lift up a dish of tuna salad.

"This is for Snape!" he yelled, flinging it at her head. Hermione ducked, the lip of the bowl grazing her sugar-coated hair, a narrow miss. She reached down and grabbed a bowl of egg salad; its contents splattered against his hip.

"No, THIS is for Snape!" Hermione countered, feeling that if anyone had any right to be angry about anything involving Snape, it was her.

"This is for Potter!" Draco sent an apple flying at her head.

"OW! This is for Ron!" Hermione replied with an orange.

"OW! This is for the goalpost!" A pear.

"OW! This is for the Vanishing Spell!" A grapefruit.

"OW! This is for that Quidditch game!" A fistful of blackberries.

"EW!" Hermione complained as they exploded against her. She picked up someone's abandoned plate of spaghetti. "This is for that illusion spell!"

"Ha-ha! That was a good one—UGH!" Noodles and meat sauce clung to Draco's torso and he reached for the creamed corn. "This is for hovering me over the giant squid!"

"Oh, that was so much—ACK!" The corn splattered against her stomach. "This is for looking down my shirt!"

"KILL HIM, MIONE!" Fred cut in from the sidelines, waving around a chicken leg he'd pilfered from the Ravenclaw table for emphasis.

Suddenly the impromptu food fight was just a way for the two of them to take out the past few months—hell, the last seven years' worth of pent-up anger and frustration. They were no longer worried about damage or messiness or what would hurt the worst or stain the most when it hit; all that mattered was that they kept throwing.

"This is for slapping me!" Draco squirted chocolate sauce on her.

"Ooh, that was fun—this is for calling me a Mudblood!" Cheese slices, one of which stuck to Draco's forehead.

"This is for actually looking decent at the Yule Ball!"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I had to listen to Pansy's insecure bitching about it! This is for petrifying me all night!"

"This is for seeing me naked!"

"KILL HIM A LOT, MIONE!" Fred roared at that point.

"GO FOR THE THROAT!" George added angrily.

"This is for getting me detention in the Forbidden Forest!"

"This is for making Ron vomit slugs!"

It was quite possibly the most entertaining fight in Hogwarts history. Hermione and Draco, who had to stay relatively close because of the chain, were doing their best to throw things from an odd angle, and mostly one-handed. They were screaming at the top of their lungs, taking no notice of the interest of the rest of the school, yelling about everything that they had ever done to one another.

"This is for the chimps!"

"This is for Buckbeak!"

"This is for freeing Buckbeak!"

"This is for that repeated phrase spell!"

Draco started laughing at the memory, and in a fury, Hermione turned around to find more food to throw, preferably something horribly messy. Just as she spotted a huge dish of chili, Draco leaped forward, a chocolate cream pie in one hand. As Hermione bent over to grab the chili, Draco scooted to one side of her, holding her down at the waist with his free hand—and flipping up her skirt to reveal her backside.

"LOOK! TATTOO! TATTOO!" he screamed gleefully to the hall at large. Dozens of people burst out laughing (and many craned their necks for a better look while experiencing their first feelings of appreciation towards Draco). Hermione's sword-and-rose tattoo was plainly visible for all to see, a few inches below the waistline of her skirt. Fred and George wrestled Colin Creevey's camera away from him and Fred began pushing the button frantically, trying to get as many angles as possible as Hermione struggled against Draco's arm. Then, to add injury to insult, Draco took the chocolate cream pie and slammed it against Hermione's butt.

An inhuman howl sounded; no one could tell if it was rage, embarrassment, or some other emotion, but it made just about everyone in the hall jump—everyone except Draco, who calmly sucked some pie filling from his finger. Then, quite suddenly, he found Hermione's foot connecting with his jaw.

"ARGH!" he yelled in pain and anger—and then screamed as a tsunami of chili slammed into his stomach. He forgot all about holding Hermione down, trying to get the burning, spicy concoction off the bits of skin it had touched. He didn't get to attempt this for long, however, as Hermione spun on him, intent on clawing his eyes out, on strangling him, on torturing him to death as slowly as possible. She was no longer aware of her actions; her emotions had taken over, and the only conscious thought she had was one word, repeating over and over: KILL!


	18. The Coconut Concussion

**Chapter Seventeen**

_The Coconut Concussion_

Once again, Ron was beyond enraged, and Harry and Ginny hadn't been able to calm him down. Ron was furious with all of them—with Hermione for her actions, and with Harry and Ginny for not having told him. Less than twenty minutes after they'd chased Ron as he stomped out of the Great Hall, Harry and Ginny were returning to the entrance hall.

"Guess I'm moving in with Hermione for a while," Harry said glumly.

Ginny patted his arm. "I'd come too, but there's not enough room—do you hear that?"

Harry paused, frowning. "It sounds like… cheering. Are they having a feast?"

"I don't think so," Ginny said, confused. "I mean, we were only gone for a few..." She trailed off. "Harry, what if the Slytherins… what if there really _was_ some other reason they weren't in the hall?"

Harry looked at her, his eyes wide, and then they both dashed down the marble staircase, making a beeline for the doors to the Great Hall. Just as they reached the entrance—

"AUGH!"

"HARRY!"

Harry went from running flat-out to being flat on his back in the blink of an eye. "Harry! Harry! Are you okay? Say something!" Ginny shrieked, kneeling over him.

"Ow," Harry muttered irritably in response. He sat up, rubbing his forehead, where a large red mark could be seen.

Ginny glanced around for the offending object as Harry squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force the pain into recession. There, rolling to a stop behind them, dripping milk as it went, a large crack along one side, was—

"A coconut?" Ginny said, lifting the object up, puzzled. "What kind of weirdo would throw a coconut at you? Wouldn't it be easier to curse you?"

Harry glanced over at the coconut in confusion, then, hoping to find the culprit, he lifted his eyes to look into the Great Hall… and his jaw dropped open. The coconut, he could safely assume, had been thrown by Hermione, who was standing on the Gryffindor table, covered in bits of food, and glaring at a laughing Draco Malfoy, who was standing with his back to the entrance.

As Harry and Ginny watched in morbid fascination, Hermione spun around and bent over, and Draco scooped up a pie, held Hermione down with one hand, grabbed the back of her skirt and yanked it up. "LOOK! TATTOO! TATTOO!"

Harry stared in disbelief, squinting in an attempt to see; he could just make out the tattoo, which was only a few inches long, on the right side of her lower back. "So _that's_ what it looks like," Harry said dazedly, in shock from the sight and still woozy because of the speeding coconut.

"Oh, god, I knew I should have brought her jeans or something this morning! We've got to—" Ginny started to stay, then stopped in horror as Draco slammed a pie against Hermione's rear end. Flashbulbs were going off like mad (thanks to the prank war, few students who owned cameras left their dormitory without them) and the whoops and jeers were deafening.

As Harry and Ginny got back to their feet, Hermione braced her hands against the table and threw her leg up in a strong kick. Draco stumbled and started shouting as the chili Hermione threw burned his hands and the warmth started to soak through his shirt. Then Hermione was on him, forcing him down to the table, clawing, scratching, punching, howling, and above all looking like some crazed monster (perhaps a breed of fruit demon).

"I got Mione!" Harry called to Ginny as he jumped on the table behind Hermione, threw his arms around her back, and yanked her off of Draco. Draco was on his feet in an instant, but found Ginny's wand right between his eyes. He settled for smirking at the three of them, especially Hermione, who was still trying to kick and hit him, even as Harry dragged her as far away from Draco as possible. Draco coolly dodged her flying fists and feet.

"FRED! GEORGE! HELP!" Harry yelled, struggling to hold her down; he was usually a lot stronger than Hermione, but he'd recently taken a blow to the head and between Hermione's adrenaline and her magic, both of which were lending her strength, he was having trouble.

"Let her go, Harry! I've got money on this fight!"

"Come _on!_ She was just about to kill him!"

"If you two don't help him, I swear I'll tell Mum about Angelina and—" Ginny stopped; there was no need to go any further, as both twins were diving onto the table. Fred grabbed one leg, George the other, and, carefully, the three of them climbed off the table and carried the struggling Hermione into the entrance hall, Draco and Ginny following.

"It's okay, Hermione," Harry grunted, trying to sound as soothing as possible while fighting to keep her from getting loose. Fred and George set her legs down once they'd reached the entrance hall, and Ginny waved her wand at the doors to close off the Great Hall and give them a bit of privacy. "It's gonna be okay, I swear. I'll let you kill him. I'll even help. Just not where there are witnesses."

"Come on, Mione," George added, remembering that she was still mad at him and Fred, and judging by the food, scratches and bruises on Draco, they wanted her calm. "It's okay."

"You guys are such amateurs," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. She adopted a frightened tone. "Hermione! There's a teacher coming!"

Hermione snapped out of it immediately. "Where?"

Draco rolled his eyes, looking disgusted at Hermione's fearful expression. "God, you're such a—"

"Draco?"

They turned; at the top of the staircase leading to the dungeons was a tall, thin blond woman, staring at them with interest.

"Mum!" Draco exclaimed in surprise and a bit of fear. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I… came to see… Dumbledore. He… sent me an owl. To explain that… er, Draco, is that cheese on your head?"

Draco reached up and removed the cheese slice from his head. "Um, well… long story, Mum. So, Dumbledore sent you a letter explaining about me being chained to Granger?"

Narcissa blinked, looking startled, but then nodded. "Yes… er, is this chain invisible or something?"

"Yeah, yeah, Dumbledore wanted to keep it quiet."

"So, you're going to be chained to her for how long?"

Draco frowned. "Until they find a cure. I'm not sure."

"Oh, dear," Narcissa said worriedly. "How will you come home for Christmas? Would she mind coming along?"

Draco and Hermione looked at each other in horror.

"Um, we really h-haven't discussed that, Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione squeaked. "We're hoping to have this resolved by then."

"I'll have a talk with Dumbledore, in that case," Narcissa replied, smiling. "Well, Draco, you seem to be in serious need of a shower… and a change of clothes… so I think I'll go visit Severus. I'll stop by the Great Hall at dinner time, all right?"

"Sure, Mum," Draco said.

She smiled. "I would hug you, but I wouldn't want to embarrass you in front of your little friends—" everyone flinched, and Fred started to say something, but Ginny held her hand over his mouth— "or ruin my robes, for that matter. I'll see you soon, Draco, dear."

"Bye, Mum," Draco said, untucking and pulling his shirt away from him in the back to let the pork chops tumble out and plop onto the floor.

As Narcissa headed down the stairs, she passed Oliver, who gave her a quick smile before continuing into the entrance hall, where he stopped and gaped at Fred and George, who had a bit of mashed potatoes on their faces and food on their hands from holding Hermione's legs; Harry, who had beef stew on his shirt from struggling with Hermione; Ginny, who was holding a cracked coconut in one hand and aiming her wand at Draco with the other; and Draco and Hermione, who were covered from head to toe in bits of food.

"What the hell happened to you lot?" Oliver demanded.

"We'll tell you later," Fred said cheerfully, and Hermione glared at him furiously.

"Is that sugar on your head?" Oliver asked Hermione, looking at her face and hair; the sugar granules had stuck to the pumpkin juice and were coating most of her head and seeping into her braids.

Harry ran his finger across Hermione's cheek and then licked his finger. "Yeah, it's sugar—hey, that's really good." He leaned forward and ran his tongue across Hermione's forehead.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, shocked.

"Sorry!" Harry said quickly, looking just as startled with his actions as she was.

"You should taste what she's got in here," Fred said, and promptly reached into her low-cut shirt and pulled out a handful of chocolate-and-brown-sugar-covered cherries. Hermione let out a noise somewhere between a shriek and a growl and started towards him. Harry grabbed her arm.

"Are you _trying_ to get yourself killed?" Ginny hissed at Fred.

"Hey, it didn't seem like a bad way to go," Fred said, handing George one of the pilfered cherries and eating one himself.

"Isn't that Colin's camera around your neck?" Harry asked, nodding at George.

"Yup. He's letting us borrow it; we told him we've been developing a few things to copy and edit photographs, and he said we could take it as long as we sent him a copy of everything and made sure to give the camera back." Harry tightened his grip on Hermione as she glared at George furiously.

"Listen," Oliver said, glancing behind him at the entrance to the dungeons, "I don't know what happened, but I'm willing to bet it's not a good idea for the teachers to find out about it. Snape just got back, and apparently he knows a way to fix the common room—"

"Damn," George muttered.

"—because Sirius Black pulled that same prank—"

"You _guys!"_ Hermione said to Fred and George in exasperation, knowing that the twins spent an awful lot of time hanging out with Sirius and had gotten a lot of "advice" from him.

"The point is," Oliver went on hurriedly before the twins could reply, "the rest of the teachers are on their way!"

"Oh, _god!"_ Hermione wailed.

"Uh-oh," Ginny said.

"Crap, we've got to—" Draco began, but Harry cut him off.

"Right, this is what we're going to do. Ginny, do you know where the Slytherin common room is?"

"Yeah."

"How?" Draco demanded, but everyone ignored him.

"Good," Harry said. "Head that way and curse yourself but good. Stall them as long as you can; burst into tears if you have to."

"I'm on it," Ginny said, and walked off, dyeing her skin blue as she went and muttering a list of gruesome curses she knew.

"Fred, George, you guys know any spells that will clean up the Great Hall?" Harry went on.

"Yeah, of course," George said. The twins had a great knowledge of charms, gained from the Order of the Phoenix and from researching joke shop items (and, of course, from being Hogwarts's finest practical jokers).

"Okay. Get in there, fix what you can, and try and convince people not to say anything when the teachers come in. After that, go talk to Ron."

"Why?" Fred asked.

"You're the only people he's not really pissed at yet," Harry said. "He figures you thought he knew about… everything, which is why you didn't tell him. At least, I assume that's what he thinks. Anyway, you're our last shot at it."

"All right," George said, shrugging.

"Oliver," Harry continued, "take Draco and Hermione to the nearest bathroom to get them clean, and make sure they don't kill each other." Oliver nodded, too worried about his friends to remember that he was a teacher, and should be the one giving orders—and punishments, too, for that matter.

"What about you, Harry?" Hermione asked, unhappy with the arrangement and wondering if it might be a better idea to have the twins come instead of Oliver—no, of course it wouldn't be, what was she thinking? They were… well, _them._

"I'm going to go see Madam Pomfrey and make sure that coconut didn't give me a concussion," he replied, rubbing the bump on his head while looking at the streak he'd made in the sugar covering Hermione's head. "All right, guys, let's get going."

Fred and George headed back into the entrance hall, Fred handing something to Harry as he headed for the hospital wing and something else to Oliver as he accompanied Hermione and Draco to a secret passage that would take them up to the prefects' bathroom. It wasn't until she saw Oliver bring his hand away from his mouth that she realized Fred had handed them each a cherry.

* * *

"Okay," Hermione said as she, Oliver and Draco entered the prefect's bathroom, "once this is over, I'm going to Dumbledore and demanding my own bathroom."

Oliver smiled while Draco rolled his eyes. "Oh, stop complaining, Granger," Draco said, taking off his shirt; a couple of stray pork chops fell off in the process. Draco dropped the filthy shirt to the floor and paused. "Wait… how are we going to get fresh clothes?"

"Er… I suppose I could go get some," Oliver said slowly. Uncomfortable as he was with the situation, he didn't want to leave Hermione alone with Draco.

"Wait!" Hermione said, panicked. She didn't know what Draco might do if they were left alone together; all she knew was that Draco was ready to strangle her—and probably would the moment her back was turned. She'd made him far too mad to risk it… and she wasn't sure _she_ wouldn't kill _him_ if given the chance. "Um… I know! Can you get in touch with the house elves, Oliver?" Hermione had read in _Hogwarts, A History_ that the teachers could summon an elf on demand.

"Oh, yeah, sure, let me just—"

"We need a specific elf," Hermione interrupted, knowing that the majority of the elves were still rather cautious around her, thanks to S.P.E.W., and wouldn't touch clothes on a human's request, anyway. The elves did the laundry, but they never handed humans clothes nor took them from humans. Elves avoided touching clothes if at all possible; they saw clothing as something offensive and fearful, and handled them carefully with magic. "We need Dobby."

"The weird one with the funny clothing?" Oliver said, confused. Hermione nodded. "Okay… Dobby, come!"

Just like that, Dobby appeared with a loud cracking noise. "What can Dobby do for you, sir?" he asked Oliver, then promptly forgot him when he caught sight of Hermione.

"Miss Herminie!" Dobby said happily.

"You know Hermione?" Oliver said, knitting his brow.

"Of course Dobby knows Miss! Miss is making Dobby his hats! Miss Herminie is a close friend of Harry Potter, and is just as kind, as great, as—"

"Oh, god," Draco muttered.

Dobby squeaked and turned to look at Draco. "Young master Malfoy!"

Draco stared at the elf, who was bundled in various clothes and wearing about thirty knit hats. "Wait… Dobby? Our old house elf, Dobby? Is that you?"

"Yes, sir!" Dobby said. "Harry Potter has freed Dobby, sir!"

"I thought my father killed you!" Draco said, shocked. "Wait… what? Potter freed… never mind, tell me later, okay? I've got to get this shit off me."

"We need some clothes and towels, Dobby," Hermione told the elf. "They're all in our room though… think you can go get them?"

"Of course, Miss. Dobby will be right back!"

"Er… please, make sure you get me jeans, okay? No skirts," Hermione said, feeling as though she'd never wear a skirt again, with all the trouble they had caused in the past two days. Dobby nodded and disappeared; Draco smirked.

Dobby returned a few moments later, with two very mismatched outfits; neither Draco nor Hermione complained, however, as they needed to get back to the dorms and didn't really care what they were wearing, as long as it wasn't coated in sugar, mustard, honey, or some other sort of food.

"Will Miss require anything else?" Dobby asked.

"No, thanks, Dobby," Hermione told the house elf gratefully. "I really appreciate this."

"Anything for Harry Potter's greatest friend!" Dobby squeaked.

Draco rolled his eyes at the "Harry Potter" comment. "Thanks a bunch, Dobby," he said, without even the slightest hint of sarcasm.

"You're very welcome, young master—er, sir," Dobby said, looking proud of himself.

Draco smiled. "Enjoying your freedom, Dobby?"

"Oh, yes, sir," Dobby said, nodding so hard his ears flapped. "Will you tell Maddy I said hello?"

"Yes, of course," Draco said. "Thanks again."

Dobby nodded and bowed before disappearing once again. Hermione started sorting through her clothes; Dobby had brought her a pair of jeans, a one-piece swimsuit, a blouse, a sweater, two pairs of underwear, a bra, a necktie, and about seven other articles. She looked at Draco's pile, which was much less haphazard.

"Hey, how come he brought you normal clothes?" she said in indignation. She frowned. "Come to think of it, why were you so civil to each other? I thought you two hated each other?" She hadn't been paying attention to Dobby's interaction with Draco at the time, preoccupied as she was by other things (including everything from Oliver to Ron's anger to the pie filling and cherries).

"Me and Dobby, hate each other?" Draco snorted. "Why would I hate him?"

"You actually _don't_ hate him?" Hermione said, shocked.

"Mind your own damned business," Draco snapped. He turned and looked at the tub, as did Hermione.

Unfortunately, the prefects' bathroom didn't have showers; it had one nice, big bathtub, which wasn't a problem, usually, as the people who used it were often alone (and when they weren't, they were with someone who was allowed to see them in the bath). However, this was a very unusual situation…


	19. A Daring Bathroom Rescue

**Chapter Eighteen**

_A Daring Bathroom Rescue_

Oliver Wood shifted uncomfortably, wondering what the problem was. Hermione hadn't seemed to have too much of a problem showering that morning; she'd been embarrassed, sure, but she'd handled it well… she handled everything well… _oh, damn, don't think THAT!_ he ordered himself, trying to keep his thoughts from getting too off-track.

It wasn't easy, however—but then it never had been, not when it came to Hermione. He'd had a crush on her for ages; it was something he'd felt since her first year, when he was in fifth. He'd noticed her during her Sorting, and after ages of staring at her, thinking about her, and so on, it had clicked that he liked her a few months later, right before Harry's first Quidditch match. Hermione had been trying to force Harry to eat a piece of toast, and he'd finally taken a bite from her hand just to placate her, and Oliver had felt the urge to murder his Seeker and developed a sudden craving for toast. He'd stayed mostly silent over the years, flirting with her a little and sometimes hanging out with Harry just to be around Hermione. When Oliver had graduated, he'd kicked himself for never saying anything to her… then, he'd seen her at the Quidditch World Cup, at night after the match…

_Hey! What happened to keeping bad thoughts out of our head?_

_I'm trying,_ Oliver thought, arguing with himself. _But she's broken up with Ron now… according to rumor…_

_Yeah, rumors are always so reliable. She's broken up with Ron, just like she's murdered Snape. Keep your mind out of the gutter! You teacher, her student!_

_I've got to get out of this bathroom,_ Oliver thought wearily, glancing at Hermione out of the corner of his eye and absently twirling the cherry stem between his fingers. _Note to self: Buy Fred a very nice Christmas present…_

He tried to force his thoughts away from Hermione, but there wasn't much left to think about. Had she really broken up with Ron? Maybe, but they'd seemed awfully friendly the day before, in the hospital… but Ron had seemed no more friendly than Harry, come to think of it. Hermione hadn't been holding hands with anyone; she'd been acting around them the way Oliver remembered the three of them from school—walking together, talking together, laughing together, but no one making eyes at anyone else. So perhaps Hermione really _was_ single now…

_Get in the tub!_ the sane… well, saner… part of him fairly screamed at Hermione and Draco. _Get in so I can get out!_

"Well?" Oliver said, a tad desperately. Neither Draco nor Hermione noticed his tone. They were both staring at the tub worriedly and not paying attention to him much, though both of them seemed to have heard Oliver speak.

"Er… maybe we can rig up a curtain," Hermione said nervously, taking out her wand.

_Oh, so **that's** what the problem is,_ Oliver thought. _No more shower curtain. Good, let's fix that and get me out of here before Malfoy has another rumor to spread. _It had never been easy for Oliver to be alone with Hermione, especially now that his brain kept reminding him of things like cherries and how she was quite possibly a single girl now.

"How are we supposed to bathe one at a time, even if we do?" Draco asked, speaking more to himself than Hermione. "We can't swim and splash around with only five feet between us. The tub's too deep; we'd have to keep one arm in the air. It's not like showering…"

Hermione sighed. "Well… we'll just go find another bathroom, is all."

The three of them headed for the door, Oliver holding the clean clothes so that Hermione and Draco didn't get food on them. Draco opened the door and froze.

"I can't believe she's _really_ got a tattoo!" Lavender's voice squealed from the corridor outside.

"I know! Who would have believed it?" Parvati answered. "I thought Malfoy just made it up!"

"Me, too!" exclaimed Parvati's twin, Padma.

"I wonder where she went… we've _got_ to get the story out of her!" Lavender said.

Hermione seized Draco's arm and hauled him inside, slamming the door quickly with her foot. "Okay, never mind," Hermione said hastily, making a silent vow to avoid her roommates as much as possible. "Um… well, hmm. I guess we could… I just… damn it, I don't _know!"_ she wailed. "I just want to get these damned cherries out of my bra!"

Oliver reddened and, out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw him toss a cherry stem across the room as inconspicuously as he could.

_I've got to get out of here… come on, those bubbles are completely opaque… I don't care how much they don't want to do it, I can't leave them alone and I can't stand this much longer!_

"Well…" Oliver coughed. "There's only one solution then, right? You'll just have to bathe at the same time."

"Have you gone mad?" Hermione asked with a laugh.

"I'll keep an eye on him, Hermione, I promise," Oliver said. "It's that, or you go find another bathroom, and I know you're anxious to be seen and to answer questions—"

Hermione groaned. "Fine," she said, feeling like she was permitting someone to shot her in the foot, though logically she knew it was pretty much their only solution.

"I'm not sharing a bath with her!" Draco insisted, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Well, the Slytherins are out of the dungeons, now," Oliver said lightly. "I suppose you could tell them all about your food fight while you're looking for another bathroom. And how you're on the way to find a nice place to shower with Hermione, the Muggle-born Gryffindor. Or I could tell them, your call."

Draco bit his lip and looked at the tub in a whole new light.

Even though they'd both agreed, more or less, it took quite some time to actually get to the bathing. Both Hermione and Draco kept trying to stall, and, as usual, they had plenty of fights along the way. First, it was an argument over which taps to turn on; Draco kept saying certain ones smelled too girly and Hermione kept worrying about the waters' bubbles being thick enough to keep anyone from seeing her. Then, once the tub was filled, they had another argument about finding a different bathroom. On and on they fought—who was going to get in first, whose fault it was, who deserved to be strangled to death more, who won the food fight, who had more right to complain, and so on. Finally, Oliver exploded.

"Will you two shut up and get in there? I haven't got all day! I'm supposed to be grading essays and planning lessons! I haven't even come up with an exam for my class tomorrow! But no, I have Harry breathing down my neck, and Fred and George dragging secrets out of me, and my desk flying out a window, and a lot of wrong thoughts I shouldn't have about students—"

_"Oliver!"_ Hermione exclaimed.

"Oh, stop it! Everyone knows that I've _at least_ seen your tattoo! Why don't we just go and tell everyone about how we—"

_"SILENCIO!"_ Hermione screeched, pointing her wand at Oliver's mouth. "Are you _insane?_ There are probably people walking by outside!"

"Let the man talk," Draco said, lifting Hermione's Silencing Charm and looking at Oliver in amusement. "This was just getting good."

Oliver blushed. "You know what? I'm a teacher. I don't have to put up with this. Both of you get in the tub!"

"You can't _order_ us to bathe!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Watch me! I order you, I order you, I order you!" Oliver said in a singsong "I've gone mad" sort of voice, shaking his shoulders in a mock dance move for emphasis and letting out an evil cackle; both Hermione and Draco backed away nervously, quite worried about his sanity.

Hermione, staring at the crazed Oliver, suddenly realized how wrong her life had become. In the past few months, she had become completely gung ho about the prank war—and as such, she'd become a nervous wreck and a devious plotter. Her stubborn streak had driven her to do the craziest things—just like when she'd followed Harry and Ron down that trap door beneath Fluffy, or freed Buckbeak and Sirius, or made a solemn vow to get a shit load of dirt on Rita Skeeter and blackmail her, breaking not just rules but laws. Overnight, she'd gone from trying to talk Harry and Ron out of the prank war to being determined to destroy Draco Malfoy at all costs. She had entered into a freakish alliance with one of her least favorite people; she had stripped a guy, dressed him in her underwear, and tied him to a goalpost; she had fought tooth and nail to get one up on him; and now, she was standing in a bathroom with said guy and _Oliver Wood,_ of all people. Oliver Wood, the teacher who made her the most uncomfortable—primarily because he had a habit of winking at her or staring at her or glaring at Ron whenever Ron was acting particularly boyfriend-y, and these sort of actions always brought up a lot of memories. Good memories, to be sure, but ones she didn't really want to think about while she was with Ron…

_Oh, god,_ Hermione thought, overwhelmed. _I'm standing here, with Oliver and Draco, about to **bathe** with Draco, while Ron's pissed at me, I accidentally almost killed Harry with a coconut, Ginny's stalling the teachers, Fred and George are doing god-knows-what, everyone's spreading rumors and through it all I'm thinking immoral thought about a man who is now my professor!_

Hermione burst out laughing. Oliver looked slightly affronted by this, and Draco just looked sort of annoyed—and somehow that made it even funnier. Everything she'd dealt with over the past few weeks, from Snape and Malfoy to Harry and Ron, minor pranks and major pranks and the tattoo and the hickeys and Oliver and so on, just sort of bubbled to the surface and gave new meaning to the phrase "you'll look back on this and laugh." She'd been avoiding Oliver all year, embarrassed and rather worried about the feelings she still had for him. She'd been worried about her motives for letting Snape mark her, as hard as she tried to block the memories out. She'd been determined to keep anyone from ever finding out about that damned tattoo. She'd been plotting to prank Draco, and nearly every day she'd been hit by some silly prank, big or small. Her relationship with Ron was basically over, Harry was being her protective-savior of a best friend, Draco was chained to her and Snape… well, who knew what had happened there. What wasn't funny about it? How had this happened? How had she gotten here? It was probably Malfoy's fault, really, but still… it was just… _wrong._

"What are you laughing at?" Oliver demanded, looking rather wounded, almost pouting, and Hermione let out a particularly loud shriek of laughter.

"You…" she choked out, pointing at him. "And you…" She pointed at Draco. "You two… Harry… Ron… twins… Snape… life… Malfoy… Dobby… pork chops… cherries…"

She started laughing too hard to speak, doubling over. Draco, however, had ceased to be amused or confused and was now just irritated. He had congealed food all over his body. He'd spent the past few days—make that months—in a state of almost constant humiliation. He was over it. He wanted to choke her to death, but he didn't think he really had the option. So he settled for the next best thing.

Draco reached out, grabbed her shoulders, and shoved her into the bathtub.

…Of course, he instantly realized this was a mistake, as he was chained to her wrist.

With a yelp, Draco went flying after her. Two screams and two splashes later, Oliver sighed, annoyed and weary. "Well, at least they're in the bathtub now," he muttered.

Hermione popped back up first, followed quickly by Draco, both of them spluttering. "How DARE you!" Hermione screamed, splashing at him.

"You bitch! This is _your_ fault!" Draco yelled, splashing her back harder. This, of course, marked the beginning of a spectacular water fight; Oliver quickly went to rescue the dry clothes and towels from the waves of water pouring out onto the floor. Once they were safe on a shelf, Oliver was too busy to tell them to knock it off; he was forced to take off his socks and shoes, put them on higher ground, roll up his pants and hitch up his robes. As their fight got them slightly clean, Oliver watched in amusement for a while, but there was only so much scented bubbles could do to clean two fully-clothed (and very messy) people and, when there was so much water on the floor that the pork chops from Draco's shirt had floated away underneath the bathroom door, Oliver called things to a halt.

"STOP! You're in the damned tub together, so bathe already!" Oliver nodded pointedly at a few bottles of shampoo and similar things that were always kept in the bathroom.

Hermione looked up at him, holding his robes high with his jeans rolled up, and giggled. Draco admitted defeat but splashed at her one last time; Hermione responded, and the water war began to start back up until Oliver screamed, "HEY!"

"Fine," Draco muttered, turning away from Hermione. "I can be mature about this."

"You can't be mature about anything!" Hermione snorted, moving to the edge of the tub as far from Draco as she could get and turning on another tap; they'd lost a lot of water during the fight. When the water was up to her neck, about an inch below Draco's shoulder, she shut the tap off. Draco was already taking off his shoes, emptying them of water, and setting them on the floor. Hermione copied him, doing her best not to blush when the rest of Draco's clothes followed. Staring hard at the bubbles to make sure no one could see anything below them, she struggled to take off her skirt and underwear without falling over and more nervously added her shirt. Oliver had his head turned away; she thought he might still be watching out of the corner of his eyes, but she wasn't certain if she was imagining that or not.

It was the most awkward moment of her life, and that was saying something. She was standing in a gigantic bathtub, with her worst enemy standing five feet away and completely naked. To top it all off, as she took off her bra, cherries fell out and began floating in the water, though some had gotten smashed into the material and she shoved the bra under her shirt so that no one would see it or the crushed cherries. She summoned a few bottles of beauty products before carefully laying her wand next to her clothes, as far from Draco as she could reach, and set about trying to get clean.

Bathing while standing up in neck-deep water wasn't easy, however. She couldn't bend over to wash the bottom half of her without submerging herself, and she didn't want to lose track of Draco, determined to keep him in her peripheral vision. It was also thoroughly embarrassing to wash certain parts of her; she knew it wouldn't be hard for Draco or Oliver to guess just what she was cleaning. Her legs presented quite a problem, also; she was going to have to scrub them thoroughly to get off all the stains (the mustard, ketchup, and several other things had left her legs looking quite discolored), but she couldn't reach below mid-thigh without half-drowning herself. Eventually, she got the bright idea to hold onto the tub's edge with one hand, stand on one foot, lift her leg up as high as she comfortably could and scrub herself that way. Draco smirked when he saw her foot and calf sticking up out of the water; he eventually became braver about looking at her, and she could just see the wheels in his head turning to come up with something insulting enough to say.

Her hair, too, presented a bit of a problem; the choice of two braids had turned out to be quite a bad one, as the braids were now sticky and difficult to unravel. It was also a chore to figure out just how to shampoo her hair; she didn't like the idea of raising her arms to scrub her head, worried that would make a bit of her chest show (and maybe too much), so she squatted down slightly to wash it and went under the water to rinse, coming up quickly and making sure Draco hadn't moved. Finally, she felt quite clean, but she continued to scrub, not wanting to face the awkward moment when she and Draco would both have to climb out of the tub.

"Are you done yet?" asked Draco, who had long since finished bathing and was lounging on the edge of the tub, his elbows propped up on it and only his lower body still beneath the bubbles.

"You still have mustard in your hair," Hermione retorted, and Draco grabbed his hair in a panic and dove for a bottle of shampoo. Hermione rolled her eyes. "You really are vain, you know that?"

"Who cares, as long as I don't look like a train wreck like you?" Draco shot back as he re-lathered his hair.

"If you two have one more fight, I'll drown you both," Oliver threatened blackly. He was sitting on the counter in the far corner of the restroom, where the sinks and mirrors were, on the other side of the two toilet stalls. He'd taken off his robes in an effort to keep them dry and was looking rather strange with his jeans rolled up and an exasperated, weary expression on his face. He was half-asleep, not having slept very well the previous night; he'd been too busy doing research for the restoration of his desk and worrying about what Dumbledore (and many other people) would say about Oliver's past with Hermione if it ever came out.

"Do I still have sugar on my face, Oliver?" Hermione asked in a small voice, not trusting Draco to reply honestly.

"Um, yeah. I can still see where Harry, er, licked you."

Hermione blushed and scrubbed harder at the sugar, which was proving highly difficult to get off of her face. Pumpkin juice was known to leave vicious stains, and it was apparently a good adhesive when it came to sugar granules and skin, especially since it had been given a long time to dry. "You're good," Oliver said at last, when she'd nearly rubbed her face raw.

"Is she, now?" Draco said vaguely, once more relaxing at the edge of the tub.

Hermione glared at him and searched for something else to clean, and had just decided that she might as well make sure all that pie crust and filling was really gone when the door swung open. With a gasp, Hermione dove under the water.

* * *

Madam Pomfrey had healed the bump on Harry's head in a matter of seconds, and was completely uninterested when he insisted that it was an unprovoked attack by a coconut (though this story did make her look very long and hard for brain damage). Feeling as good as new, Harry set out to find Hermione and to make sure she was alive and not strangling anyone or throwing pork chops down someone's shirt.

_Ah, Hermione, gotta love her,_ he thought with a grin as he began his bathroom search. He was certain they were still in one; it would have taken a long time to scrub all that crap off, and they would, after all, have to take two showers (and they'd probably argued for ages). The first bathroom Harry thought of was the prefects' one; as far as he knew, the rest of the bathrooms in the main part of the school only had toilets, as the common rooms all had showers and baths. It was pretty private, and much closer to the Great Hall than Gryffindor tower, which were also good reasons to go there if you were covered in food and had just been thoroughly embarrassed in front of most of the school.

Harry immediately saw that he was right; the entire corridor outside the prefects' bathroom was flooded, and two lone pork chops were floating in the mess. Holding up his robes and stepping carefully, Harry headed for the door; he'd become a prefect in his sixth year, which was when secondary prefects were usually chosen to help with the extra work bestowed upon the older prefects.

"Rabbits' feet," Harry called at the door, grinning at the memory of Draco's "love and bunnies" password, not that the two were related.

The door swung open and Harry walked in, then froze. Draco was looking up at him with an annoyed expression, and Oliver was nowhere to be seen (primarily because his shelf was on the other side of the toilet stalls)… and neither was Hermione. But she had to be there… somewhere…

_I guess she's under the water,_ Harry thought in surprise, trying to work out just why Hermione would be submerged. He waited for a few seconds for her to come up, but she didn't… and then a horrible thought struck him. Draco looked pretty relaxed, or had until Harry had come in… she wasn't down there doing… she wouldn't… would she?

"Go away, Potter," Draco snapped. "I'm busy."

_Oh, god, she is!_ Harry thought wildly. _She's down there giving him a… no. No, not my Hermione. No, no, no. She wouldn't. She doesn't even do that… does she? Think, Harry! Think rationally! Why would Oliver have left? Was he pissed off at her for some reason? Oh, god, what if he thought she told me her secret about him and he got mad and left? What if Malfoy's done something to her… ohmigod! He's DROWNED her!_

"I'm coming, Mione!" Harry yelled, and ran for the tub, kicking off his shoes as he went. The startled, frightened look on Draco's face would have been comical if Harry hadn't been too busy charging the tub to care.

Oliver, meanwhile, had dozed off slightly, but awoke with a start at the sound of Harry's shout. He stood up, wondering what Harry was doing there, and stepped out from his little hidden corner just in time to see Harry making a flying leap into the pool and Draco ducking in terror. Scratching his head, Oliver was too tired and exasperated to do much but stand there and hit the door with a spell to close it.

Hermione was cowering at the bottom of the tub, praying that whoever had come in would see Draco, not notice her pile of clothes, and leave before she ran out of air. She'd have to resurface soon; she couldn't hold her breath forever.

Suddenly strong arms seized her around the chest and yanked her upwards. Hermione screamed, then promptly choked on soapy water. Draco was trying to feel her up in the bath! She'd kill him... or was _he_ trying to kill _her?_ God, she needed air! She couldn't breathe!

Her head broke the surface and she coughed and spluttered, spitting out water and barely noticing as she was dragged to the side of the tub. Someone lifted her up and laid her on the floor, and Hermione, in full panic mode now, opened her mouth to scream… and someone pinched her nose shut and covered her mouth with theirs.

Hermione's eyes flew open as a gust of air filled her mouth… and Harry's dripping wet face filled her vision. What _the hell_ was he _doing?_ He… he'd just pulled her out of the bath and… kissed her, if one could call it that. He definitely needed snogging lessons…

Hermione was too shocked to react (it wasn't every day your best friend dragged you out of the bathtub to prove their love by making out with you—very, very badly), and it wasn't until Harry pulled away and put his hands on her chest that she shrieked and pushed him off… and back into the bathtub. Harry let out a quick "ARGH!" before he went under. Draco started laughing hysterically, finally understanding that Harry had thought Hermione had drowned.

Harry came back up, looking quite confused. The moment he saw her, sitting up and staring at him, he rushed to her and threw his arms around her. "Hermione! You're _okay!"_

"Harry what _has_ gotten into you?" Hermione demanded, trying to push Harry away but to no avail. How badly had she hurt him when Malfoy had ducked that flying coconut? "I thought you went to see Madam Pomfrey about that head injury!"

"I thought you were a goner!" Harry choked out. "When I came in and realized you were under the water…"

"Oh, god," Hermione sighed. Of course he hadn't been kissing her; he'd been trying to do C.P.R.! "Harry, forgive me, but you really DO have a saving-people thing! What _am_ I going to do with you?"

Harry pulled back, looking like a drowned (and very relieved) rat. "I couldn't figure out why you didn't come up! At first I thought… well, never mind what I… you're alive! And… naked." He looked down at her body in shock.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, having forgotten this fact in all the confusion and amusement. Oliver stepped up behind her and handed his robe to her. She wrapped it around herself as Harry looked away and Draco fought to stay standing, laughing as hard as he was.

"What the hell were you doing in the bathtub with Malfoy, anyway?" Harry demanded, his back still turned as she stood up, Oliver's robe sticking to her damp skin, and retrieved her wand to summon a towel. "Better yet, what the hell were you doing _naked_ in a bathtub with Malfoy?"

"Bathing, Harry, what do you think? The tub was too deep to bathe in separately and all… well, okay, once we were in there we decided to bathe—"

"Wait, you got in and_ then_ thought you'd take a bath together?"  
"Harry, why are you taking this so… so… weird?" Hermione demanded in exasperation. "Malfoy pushed me in, Malfoy fell in, Oliver lost it—"

"Hey!"

"—and ordered us to get clean. So we did, staying as far apart as possible," Hermione continued, drying herself off as best she could, too annoyed and amused and overwhelmed by the strangeness of life to be embarrassed or less blunt. "Then the door opened, and I hid, thinking it was some other prefect… can't believe I forgot to charm the door…" The prefects usually cast a spell on the charm when bathing, to prevent anyone else from entering. "Then someone grabbed me and I fully intended to kill them, but I screamed and choked and the next thing I know you're giving me mouth-to-mouth."

"Is that a new term for it?" the pureblooded Oliver said in an amused sort of tone.

"It's a Muggle thing!" Hermione exclaimed indignantly. "It's used to save drowning victims!"

"If you say so," Oliver said skeptically; he didn't see how Harry kissing Hermione was some Muggle live-saving method, and moreover he'd been rather relieved and filled with a happy feeling when Hermione had shoved him back into the tub.

Harry pushed himself out of the tub, water pouring off of him. "Oh, man… I'm completely soaked," he complained.

Hermione performed a wave to make hot air blow out of the tip of her wand, handed it to Harry, and continued drying off. "Well, thanks for trying to save my life, anyway," she said, shaking her head at him. She looked over at Malfoy, who was laughing so hard that no sound came out. "Oh, shut up, Malfoy!"


	20. The Weasley Alliance

**Chapter Nineteen**

_The Weasley Alliance_

Ron was lying on his bed, staring angrily up at the ceiling. After all this time, Hermione had betrayed him. He'd been dating her for about seven months now, and he'd been her friend for over six years, and yet she'd been keeping secrets and she'd actually done… done… _something_ with Snape! _Snape,_ the greasy git! How _could_ she?

Ron heard the door opening and closing, but he didn't bother calling out a hello. He just prayed it wasn't Harry or Ginny trying to talk to him again; he wanted to strangle them both. That they'd been in on it was almost as bad as Hermione doing it. They were supposed to be a team, Harry-Ron-and-Hermione, but no…

"Hey, Ron, you in here? We want to talk to you!"

"Fred?" Ron asked, surprised. "What do you want?"

"To talk to you, pay attention already," George said, pulling back the hangings around Ron's bed.

"About what?" Ron said viciously, annoyed. He wasn't about to just grit his teeth and forgive his friends for this one. _Ginny_ had known before him, for crying out loud!

"Well," Fred said slowly, "we figure we can help you… you know, get revenge."

Ron stopped, swallowing an angry rant about how he wasn't apologizing for being kept out of the loop. He had assumed the twins either wouldn't get involved or would take Harry, Ginny and Hermione's side; they were closer to Ginny than to Ron.

"Why?" Ron asked suspiciously as the twins sat down on his bed.

"Well," Fred said slowly, "we, er, feel sort of bad about Pig and all."

"And it was really rude of Hermione to hit us with mashed potatoes," George added, brushing at some white gunk stuck to his forehead.

"Mione hit you with mashed potatoes?" Ron repeated, bewildered.

"Oh, that's right, you left the hall… don't worry, we'll send you loads of pictures," Fred assured him.

"Yeah, as soon as Fred's finished making a collage to wallpaper his room with—ow! Hey, that wasn't very nice!" George rubbed his arm where Fred had punched it.

"Isn't that Colin's camera?" Ron asked, looking at the camera around George's neck.

"Yeah, we're borrowing it. With permission, for a change."

"Why?"

"Um… you kind of missed the fight of the century, really," Fred said. "Getting back to the point, though—we figure it's time we trained you to follow in our footsteps."

"Meaning?" Ron asked nervously.

"The prank war, Ron, how thick can you be?" Fred exclaimed, throwing up his hands in exasperation. "When was the last time you guys pulled a decent prank, eh? Well, now that you're angry with Harry and Hermione and Ginny, it's time for you to strike out on your own, little brother!"

"What have you two got against Harry, Hermione, and Ginny?" Ron wanted to know, confused.

"Come on, Ron, all those times we tortured you just for the hell of it, and you think we've got something against them?" George said, shaking his head sadly. He looked at his twin. "You were right, Fred, we've neglected the kid's teachings for too long."

"Poor Ron," Fred said with a heavy sigh. "Listen, Ronniekins, it's not about what you've got against them. It's about fun! …Although Hermione never did sleep with me in the library like she asked me to, come to think of it."

"Fred's been really disappointed about that," George agreed, ignoring Ron's glare.

"Yeah," Fred said with another sigh and a faked sniffle. "Anyway… Lesson Number One, everyone is fair game. Your friends, your family, your professors, everyone."

"Lesson Number Two," George said, "don't get caught. Which bring us to—"

"Lesson Number Three," Fred continued, "plan carefully."

"Lesson Number Four, always have alibis, backup plans, and escape routes ready."

"Lesson Number Five—"

"I get the point, guys," Ron interrupted. "Do you have an idea, or not?"

"No, _you_ have an idea, we're here to give you motivation and support," Fred told him, as though this should be obvious. "That's what brothers do."

"What do you mean, 'I have an idea?' I _don't_ have an idea. I haven't even been thinking about it."

"Oh, but you _do_ have an idea, little brother," George said mischievously. "You have a thousand ideas. You've had them for ages. Things from us, things from Sirius and Remus, things you've managed to think up all by yourself."

Ron's eyes widened. He _did_ have ideas, ways to get back at his best friend and his girlfriend and his sister… not to mention at Malfoy. None of them would suspect him, either… not for a while, at least… and then, finally, Ron could prove he was just as good as any of them.

Ron grinned. "Oh, this is gonna be _fun."

* * *

_

Ginny was on her way to Gryffindor tower, hoping that no one had gotten caught (and that Harry's head injury wasn't too bad) when one foot landed in a puddle of water and the other landed on a pork chop.

"Found them," Ginny muttered. She crept carefully closer to the prefects' bathroom, trying not to slip; it looked like the sort of mess Moaning Myrtle would create. She could hear laughter, and Harry and Hermione talking; she pressed her ear to the door to listen.

"Oh, shut up, Malfoy!" Hermione was saying irritably as Malfoy's laughter faded to choked gasps. "Get out of the tub, will you? I want to get out of here."

Ginny smiled, wondering just what had happened, and knocked on the door. "It's me, guys!" she called, and then said the password to open the door.

She stared around at them; the scene was even stranger than when Ginny had walked into Hermione's room to find Harry straddling Hermione and Draco lying next to them. Hermione was toweling off her hair and wearing Oliver's robe, which was enormous on her. Draco, who was obviously quite naked, was clutching the side of the tub, his face bright red with silent laughter. Harry was fully clothed, save for his shoes, and was dripping with water, his glasses slightly askew. Oliver was simply standing by, looking tired and amused.

Ginny shot a questioning look at Hermione, who sighed. "I'll tell you later, Gin," she said. "How did it go with the teachers?"

"They're only just leaving the dungeons," Ginny reported proudly. "Took the lot of them a good deal of time to figure out what I'd done to myself. We need to get back to the dormitory, though; they'll be heading up here soon, and I don't think you want to have to explain this mess… at least, to them, anyway, otherwise it'll make a great story. What happened with Malfoy? Someone hit him with a Cheering Charm?"

"If only that had been the case," Hermione said dryly. "Come _on,_ Malfoy, we've got to get moving! We're going to get caught!"

It took them a good long time to get Draco going; by the time he was out of the tub, Hermione had thrown on the mismatched clothes Dobby had brought and Ginny had fixed her hair. Just as Draco was starting to get dry, they heard a loud meow in the hallway outside.

"Uh-oh," Ginny said worriedly, and opened the hallway to reveal Mrs. Norris, who gave Ginny the most evil look a cat could give and whisked off. "It's Mrs. Norris! She's going for Filch!"

"Run!" Oliver hissed, shrugging his now-slightly-damp robes back on. "You guys go, I'll make something up!"

"Thanks!" the three Gryffindors called as they dashed towards Gryffindor tower, Draco in tow.

* * *

"So you apologized to Ginny?" Seamus was saying to Dean as the two of them sat in the common room with Lavender and Parvati. Seamus and Dean were playing chess in an attempt to drown out the incessant gossip the girls were indulging in.

"Yeah," Dean said glumly. "She won't take me back, but I don't think I'll have to worry about one of her friends or her brothers trying to kill me in my sleep."

Seamus chuckled. "Move on, mate. There are plenty of other fish in the sea."

"There had better not be for you!" Lavender, Seamus's girlfriend, cut in.

"There aren't," Seamus said quickly.

"You're so whipped," Dean said, rolling his eyes.

"Am not," Seamus retorted.

"Are too."

"Well, at least I'm not still mooning over some sixth year I broke up with over a year ago," Seamus shot back.

"Hey, _you_ try dating her for a few months and then talk to me about how hard she is to get over," Dean said sadly. "Ginny is—" Dean stopped hurriedly, staring at the portrait hole; Seamus looked over to see Ginny climbing through it, holding an armful of clothing.

"Come on, you guys," Ginny whispered, motioning for someone to follow her into the room. "Before the whole common room's staring!"

Seamus immediately nudged Lavender to get her attention, and the four Gryffindors turned to watch with interest. Several other people were looking at Ginny curiously.

After a few moments, Harry climbed through the hole behind Ginny, thoroughly soaked and aiming a wand at his hair to blow it dry; half of his hair was sticking up much more than usual as a result, while the rest lay flat on his head. Behind Harry came Hermione, dressed as if her closet had exploded on her. She was wearing a bright red swimsuit under a pair of jeans and an open purple blouse. On one foot was a dark green sock, and on the other was an orange one with little black cats on it; both socks clashed horribly with her pink high heels.

If Hermione was dressed strangely, however, it was nothing compared to what Draco Malfoy was wearing—a Gryffindor-scarlet bath towel.

_Only_ a Gryffindor-scarlet bath towel.

Everyone in the common room started laughing; Draco shot an annoyed glare around the common room and clutched the towel tighter around his waist.

Harry grinned. "Hey, Malfoy—what was that password again? I can't remem—"

"LOVE AND BUNNIES!" Draco shouted angrily at the wall, which quickly opened.

Dean, Seamus, Lavender and Parvati watched as the strange (in more ways than one) group disappeared behind the wall to the guest quarters. "Oh, man," Parvati gasped through her laughter, clutching her sides. "We have _got_ to figure out just _what_ is going on with them!"

* * *

_I can explain,_ Oliver thought to himself, trying to come up with a good reason why the fourth floor was flooded as he stood outside the prefects' bathroom, one hand holding up his robes and the other holding his shoes and socks. _No, "I can explain" sounds like I'm the one who did it… damn, what do I say? "I didn't see who did it?" No, my robes are damp and my shoes aren't, they'll figure that out… should I blame it on a Slytherin? No, they've all been shut in the dungeons…_

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of McGonagall's voice, which floated up to him from the third floor. "You're sure they're still in the bathroom, Macmillan?" she barked.

"They were when I went to get you. I could hear voices, but I couldn't tell who it was," answered Ernie Macmillan. Oliver groaned; Macmillan had become a total dictator since making prefect, never mind Head Boy.

"I appreciate your coming to get me, Macmillan," McGonagall said, her tone icy. "Maybe stricter punishments will put an end to all this prank war nonsense."

Oliver grimaced. If there was one person he didn't want to have to deal with, it was McGonagall. She had no patience for rule-breaking and she would know instantly that Oliver was covering up for Harry. In other words, Oliver was about to die.

For the fourth time in two days, Oliver turned tail and ran.

* * *

Draco immediately seized his clean clothes from Ginny and stomped into the bathroom they moment they entered, while Ginny and Hermione argued over which clothes Hermione should change into, Hermione standing outside the bathroom door. When Hermione was finally dressed in something normal-looking, Ginny went to go grab some dry clothes for Harry, then decided to haul his entire trunk down to the guest room, mad as Ron was at them all.

"Strangest thing," Ginny said, frowning as Harry sorted through his trunk, "Fred and George are talking to Ron, and they all seemed really cheerful, but Ron still glared at me when he saw me."

"Hmm," Hermione said, filing that information away for later, busy as she was with looking up a spell to clean the shoes she'd been wearing during the food fight.

When Draco emerged from the bathroom, everyone avoiding speaking to him or looking at him, which was fine by him. He sat down on his bed, Harry, Hermione and Ginny sat on hers, and each side took to ignoring the other. Harry, Hermione and Ginny spent some time looking up decent curses and wards to place on Harry and Hermione's trunks, which made Draco roll his eyes, as he really didn't give a damn about their belongings.

"I'm sure Ron will come around," they kept assuring each other, and fell into a light, easy conversation, nearly forgetting Draco's presence.

Finally, however, Draco stood up, reminding them all of his existence. "It's dinnertime," he said coldly, "let's go."

"I'm not going to dinner!" Hermione told him. "I'm skipping my meals for the next few months, thank you very much."

"My mum's down there, or _I_ wouldn't be going," Draco snapped. "I've got to go see her."

"I don't care who's down there, I—"

"Come on, guys, let's not argue!" Harry said wearily. "I've had enough of theatrics for one day. Why don't we go down there, and one of us can ask Malfoy's mum to come out to the entrance hall, and they can talk and hug and whatever, and then we'll go down to the kitchens for dinner, all right?"

"Are you… _compromising…_ with _Malfoy?"_ Hermione demanded in shock.

"Hermione," Harry said, raising an eyebrow at her, "in the past two days, I've been petrified for half the night, I've flown on Malfoy Airlines, I've had Ron get pissed at me twice, I nearly got killed by you—and a coconut, I might add—and most recently I tried to rescue you from drowning only to have to walk into the common room with Malfoy while he's wrapped in a towel. I'm not having _one more problem_ today, understand? I can't take it. And considering I've had a better weekend than you, I hope you can agree."

Hermione bit her lip and turned to look at Draco, who shrugged. "Fine," Hermione grumbled.

Ginny was given the task of entering the Great Hall for them, and reemerged soon after with Narcissa Malfoy. "What's all the fuss about, Draco?" Narcissa asked, confused.

"Oh… I… didn't feel like going in the hall," Draco said. "I…"

"Ah! Mrs. Malfoy!" called a new voice, and they all turned to see Dumbledore coming through the front doors. "How are you?"

"Fine, Albus, and yourself?" she said pleasantly.

"Good, good—it is a relief to see another Death Eater captured," he said. "Mulciber is now serving a life sentence in Azkaban once more."

"A relief indeed!" Narcissa exclaimed. "Oh, I'm so glad that horrible man is no longer free…"

"You are?" Harry said, frowning.

"Of course I am, aren't you?" Narcissa said, looking startled. She shook her head and turned back to Dumbledore. "Albus, while we're all here, I wanted to discuss the matter of this… chain, if you please?"

"Of course," Dumbledore said, "why don't you all accompany to my office?"

Rather nervous about the coming talk (in other words, they were worried about how badly Draco's mother, the widow of Voldemort's right hand man and a woman who still had a lot of connections in the Ministry, was going to pitch a fit), Harry, Ginny and Hermione followed Dumbledore up to the headmaster's office, where they sat down in comfortable, conjured chintz armchairs.

"I'm glad you got all that mess off, Draco," Narcissa said as they took their chairs. "I was quite worried that mustard would stain."

All four students shot Dumbledore a worried look, hoping he wouldn't comment or punish them for their actions. Dumbledore simply gave them a knowing smile, choosing not to comment.

"First of all," Dumbledore said, "the research into this matter is going splendid. We hope to have a solution soon… but I do not believe it will be before the Christmas holidays."

"Professor," Hermione said tentatively, "I… I promised my parents I would make it home for Christmas this year. I haven't seen them for Christmas since my first year, and my entire family's meeting at my grandparents' home this year on Christmas Day, all of my cousins and aunts and uncles—and I planned to spend Christmas Eve with the… um… in London," she amended hastily, not wanting to mention the Order in front of the Malfoys.

"Hey, what about my Christmas?" Draco said angrily. "I've been planning to spend it with Mum—"

Hermione bit her lip, not wanting to argue in front of the headmaster and Narcissa. "Er," she said, turning to Dumbledore, "what do you think, professor?"

"Well," Dumbledore said slowly, "what time is your family gathering, Miss Granger?"

"We've agreed to meet at eleven, and we'll probably stay until late afternoon."

"In that case," Dumbledore said, "why don't I talk to the Order and see if we can't reschedule our celebration for Christmas Day, in the evening? Mr. Malfoy can accompany you to both get-togethers, and you can accompany him to Malfoy Manor on Christmas Eve."

Hermione stared at him in horror. "T-take _him_ to my family for Christmas?" she spluttered. "But… but they're _Muggles,_ professor—"

"Well, if you'd rather call the whole thing off…" Draco began with a smirk.

"I believe Mr. Malfoy has taken Muggle Studies," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. "Would that suit you, Narcissa?" he added, turning to her.

She nodded. "We can make arrangements, yes," she said.

"Wait… how will I get there?" Hermione asked. "I mean, I can't take the Knight Bus to my grandparents' house… I was going to take the Bus home from London and then my parents and I were going to ride together…"

Dumbledore thought for a moment. "I'm sure we can find a solution to the transportation problem," he said. "It may take some time, however."

"Professor," Ginny spoke up, "what about the rest of the holidays? Where will they spend the remaining time?"

"I'll let Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger work that out," Dumbledore said. "Though I strongly recommend spending that time either with the Order or at Hogwarts. Tell me your decision by the end of the week; I should have a solution to the transportation problem by then. Now, I believe the only item left to discuss is your detention, Harry—"

"Detention? For what?" Harry said blankly.

"For flying Malfoy Airlines," Hermione said, giving him a significant look.

"That young man stole Draco's broomstick?" Narcissa said in shock.

"No, no, Mum…" Draco said, biting his lip. He knew his mother well enough to know that if she knew Harry had blown up Draco's head, she'd want all the details as to why. "Don't worry about it; it's just an expression."

Dumbledore smiled. "Usually, I would have asked Mr. Filch to assign you a detention, Harry, but as Severus fell behind in the production of Pepper-Up Potion, we'll have to wait until Mr. Filch is feeling a tad better. Severus has agreed to oversee your detention, Harry, and we've set it for Thursday."

"Okay, then," Harry said. "Er… I'm really sorry about that, professor."

"One cannot always control one's emotions," Dumbledore reminded him with another smile.

"Got that right," Harry, Ginny, Hermione and Draco muttered in unison.

Dumbledore chuckled. "I trust you are all using this opportunity to work out your differences?"

It didn't take a genius to see that all four students were desperately trying not to laugh.

"Er… we're trying, professor," Harry lied.

"Right," Dumbledore said. "Well, if there is nothing more to discuss, I have a lot of work to do…"

"Thank you for your time, Albus," Narcissa said, standing up.

Harry, Hermione and Ginny turned to follow Draco and Narcissa from the room, but Draco stopped halfway to the door.

"Professor," Draco said slowly, "I heard it was Nymphadora Tonks who captured Mulciber and… is…is she all right?"

"She is fine," Dumbledore assured him. "She is, in fact, receiving a promotion, as this is the fifth Death Eater she has brought to justice."

"Thanks," Draco said, his expression unreadable. Harry and Hermione exchanged glances, wondering just what his interest in Tonks was; they doubted it was anything very wholesome. Tonks was the one who had killed Lucius Malfoy.

Harry and Hermione looked at Ginny, who nodded; the three of them all made mental notes to talk about it as soon as they could get some time without Draco around.

They went back down to dinner; Narcissa and Draco said their goodbyes in the entrance hall, and Harry, Hermione, Ginny and Draco detoured down to the kitchens once they were certain Narcissa was gone.

The moment Narcissa was out of earshot, Hermione exploded. "I can't believe I have to take HIM to meet my family! They'll be all… all… weird! And Malfoy! Ha! He'll get some good home cooking this time! One wrong move and it's grandpa's old shotgun for him!"

"Hermione, you're not making sense," Ginny said gently.

"Sure she is," Harry said. "She just said she doesn't want to take Malfoy anywhere, and her family's going to think it's odd she's bringing a guy home for Christmas—especially when she's probably told some of them she hates said guy—and then she said that if he does anything, she'll throw her grandmother's cooking at him before killing him in the messy Muggle way."

"Oh, okay," Ginny said, grinning. "As long as she has a plan."


	21. Questions

**Chapter Twenty**

_Questions_

"Hermione?" Harry said, pausing outside the kitchen entrance. "I want to talk to Ginny for a moment; will you be all right?"

Hermione smiled. "I can handle Malfoy for a few minutes, Harry, don't worry."

"Are you sure?" Ginny said with a mischievous grin. "There's a lot of food in the kitchens, you know."

"Oh, ha, ha," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "Just hurry up, okay?" She leaned forward and tickled the pear to gain entrance to the kitchens; Draco, having never been down to the kitchens before, watched with interest before following her inside.

"So what do you want to talk to me about?" Ginny asked, suddenly nervous. She doubted Harry was going to compliment her hair or ask her for her opinions on house elf rights.

Harry leaned against the kitchen doorway, regarding her with an expression that told her he wasn't going to let her get away from him without answering. "Talk, Gin," Harry said. "Now."

"Um… about what?"

"You know about what," Harry said severely. "You and Hermione are close. She tells you a lot of things that she doesn't tell me and Ron. The girl stuff."

"Well, there are some things that just aren't meant to be shared with your guy friends," Ginny said, swallowing.

"I think it's time you shared a few of Hermione's things with this particular guy friend," he said, narrowing his eyes. "Like what's up with her and Wood, for instance. Or why you both neglected to tell me about Snape."

"Harry, I'm not going to betray Hermione's confidence," Ginny said. "Her secrets are hers, and I'd no sooner tell them than mine. Not even to you."

"She was going to tell me anyway, before… er… I accidentally blew up Malfoy," Harry replied.

"Which she might not have done if you hadn't cornered her between you and the lake," Ginny retorted, having heard the whole story that morning, while Hermione was getting dressed and while Draco was showering, after Harry, Ron and Oliver had left the bathroom. Hermione had, however, said she planned to tell Harry, as soon as she found the right words; Ginny knew that Hermione would be more grateful than angry if Ginny handled the telling for her.

"She would have told me sooner or later, regardless," Harry argued. "You know she would have."

Ginny bit her lip and sighed, knowing that, if anything, Hermione would be grateful that Ginny had saved Hermione the embarrassment. "All right, Harry, if you must know… are you sure you want to? You might not want to. Honest."

"Gin, the word 'honest' is becoming rather taboo, don't you agree? Tell me. Start with the Quidditch World Cup… I can't recall Hermione ever being alone with Wood there."

Ginny took a deep breath. "Well, she was, twice. When she left the line at the water tap, she bumped into him and they chatted for a while. Then, the night after the Cup, she couldn't sleep and went wandering around—"

"You're joking!" Ginny shook her head. "Was she _insane?_ Going out alone with all those Death Eaters on the loose?"

"She said she was so worried and upset that she just had to get out of the tent. She figured the Death Eaters were so shook up, and the Ministry was so watchful afterwards, that she'd be okay. She thought the Death Eaters would be lying low, and she was right. Then… well, while she was out, she ran into Oliver, who was walking around himself. The two of them hung out together and… to make a long story short, Oliver walked her back to the tent and they ended up kissing. A lot."

"So Hermione showed him her tattoo right on the path in front of the tent?"

"Oh, don't be stupid!" Ginny exclaimed. "Of course she didn't. Besides, she didn't even have the tattoo then. She got it last summer, remember?"

"Then how did he see it?" Harry asked impatiently.

"Well," Ginny said slowly, trying to figure out how much to say, "do you remember how we told you Oliver joined the Order before you first came to Grimmauld Place?"

Harry nodded. In the talks he'd had with Fred, George, Ron, Hermione and Ginny about the Order during the summer before his fifth year, he'd learned that several people he knew had become members of the Order, Oliver being one of them. Oliver's father was in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and Oliver had several family members who had been lost to Voldemort, so he'd immediately sought out Dumbledore to see if the rumors were true. When Dumbledore had confirmed them, he'd offered Oliver the chance to become a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and Oliver had readily accepted.

"Back when Oliver first joined, he spent some time at Grimmauld Place—learning, attending meetings, that sort of thing. Then Puddlemere's training season started up, and he didn't have as much time… but, well, when he was hanging around Grimmauld Place, he and Hermione… well, they spent a little time alone." Ginny stifled a giggle at the look on Harry's face and went on. "Apparently, just about every time Oliver dropped by Grimmauld Place for the holidays during the two years You-Know-Who was around, he and Hermione… hung out."

"But… but she got together with Ron this past summer. How—she didn't—"

"She didn't cheat on Ron, no. After the war, Hermione told Oliver that she was spending some time with her family and Muggle friends. And Oliver occasionally went out with her and her friends—to parties and whatnot. He didn't do it often, as he was a pureblood and it was hard to keep his story straight around all the Muggles, but I know he did it sometimes. As for how he saw the tattoo… I don't know. He could have been there when she got the tattoo, given that they were hanging out. They hung out a lot right up until she joined us at headquarters for your birthday. He might have never seen it, actually; she might have just told him."

"So… wait. When she got with Ron, she was cheating on Oliver?"

"She was never dating Oliver. Not exactly. They… they liked each other, and then dated, but they weren't a couple. Hermione didn't want to date during the war, and with her at school and him off playing professional Quidditch… it just wasn't practical, and you know how Hermione is with impracticality. She got together with Ron a few weeks before term, quite a while after the last time she'd seen Oliver, and then told Oliver about Ron once she found out he would be teaching this year." Her face softened. "Poor Oliver. I think he thought teaching here would bring them closer. I think Oliver still likes her, really, but between her having a boyfriend and Oliver being a professor, they've mostly just had awkward conversations."

Harry was having trouble letting it all sink in. "So… let me get this straight. You mean they've been sleeping together since before fourth year without even dating?"

"No!" Ginny said in exasperation. "Come on, Harry; Hermione wasn't even fifteen then! You honestly think she'd shag Oliver when she was fourteen?"

"I never thought she'd do a thing with Oliver, really," Harry said bluntly.

"Oh, come on, she's a girl, not a nun!" Ginny snapped. "I mean, surely you saw her snogging Viktor once or twice—"

"No, I didn't," Harry interrupted, frowning. Hermione had always struck him as the don't-touch-me-unless-we're-married-or-you-don't-want-to-use-your-hands-ever-again type.

Ginny snorted. "You really are naïve, you know that? Why'd you think he invited her to stay at his house in Bulgaria—which he lives in all by himself, by the way? So he'd have someone to play Quidditch with?"

Harry's jaw dropped. "Are you _serious?"_

"Yes, Harry," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "Come on, Mr. I've-never-felt-this-way-before asked her to stay over at his house in a different _country,_ which usually implies more than a day trip. I don't know what his intentions were, but I doubt they were very innocent."

"But Hermione considered going!"

"Yep."

"But… but…"

"Pull your head out of your arse, Harry," Ginny said with a sigh. "Viktor was famous, rich, sweet, smart, a good dancer, and pretty good-looking."

"Hermione herself said he wasn't that good-looking!"

"Yeah, well—she said 'that good-looking,' which means he's at least mildly good-looking to her. And girls don't always mean what they say when they're talking about guys, Harry. Especially when they're talking to other guys. One of your best friends is a girl, how can you not know that? _How_ long have you been hanging around Hermione now?"

"Hermione's not a _real_ girl, she's a… a… a… _Hermione."_

Ginny slapped her forehead. "Anyway, Harry… can we get back on subject? I'm hungry." Harry pursed his lips and nodded. "I honestly don't know if they slept together, but if they did, I doubt it was back at the World Cup. They might have eventually slept together, mind you, but I never asked Hermione much about it. I don't know. And it's her business, not ours. Like I said, though, I don't even know if he's actually seen her tattoo."

"He's seen it," Harry said with certainty. "They were acting weird around each other all year. I never thought much of it, but looking back, it kind of clicks. I mean, she never spoke much around him, he always looked at her kind of funny… I dismissed it then, but now… well."

"It's not really your business, Harry," Ginny said quietly. "I mean, who she's slept with, what she's done with this guy or that… that's not something she's obligated to share."

"Maybe, maybe not," Harry replied stubbornly, "but how would you feel if your best friend had been having some secret relationship for over two years without telling you?"

Ginny sighed. "I see your point, Harry. Anyway… can we go get something to eat now?"

"Not yet—what happened between her and Snape?"

"Oh, for crying out loud, Harry, she was just messing with Malfoy's head!" Ginny exclaimed, throwing up her hands. "It was nothing. She's been so determined to win this war, and you know what she's like, how hard she'll work for something—"

"She let Snape put hickeys on her just to get back at Malfoy?" Harry said disbelievingly.

"Harry," Ginny said slowly, "are you aware of just how badly she would be in trouble if it ever came out that Hermione blackmailed Rita Skeeter to keep her from writing damaging articles? Blackmail is illegal, no matter how small or righteous it is… and when you know someone's committed a crime, you're obligated by law to turn them in, or you've committed a crime yourself. Yet Hermione doesn't care, because a) she doesn't think she'll get caught and b) she despises Skeeter so badly that the risk of having to share a cell in Azkaban with her is worth it. She's blackmailed Skeeter twice now—once to write that interview, and once to not write for a year. Two counts of blackmail and the gods only know how many charges could be brought against her for not turning in an unregistered Animagus. I don't know if she can still be charged, so long after she's committed the crime, but… listen, my point is, Snape was nothing more than an intricate revenge plot and a helping hand in getting ideas for pranks. I know it seems rather farfetched, but the idea that there was any other reason is even more preposterous. It's about the prank war, nothing more. She just didn't tell you and Ron everything, because she figured you guys would freak—and she was right, wasn't she?"

"We still would have taken it better from Hermione as opposed to Malfoy."

"Well, I'm sure she would have told you if she could have predicted that she'd have Malfoy attached to her arm in the near future," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "Look—Hermione's been going through a lot. Can't you let it go? She doesn't need this right now, not from Ron, and _especially_ not from you."

Harry nodded briskly. "Fine. Let's get in there and make sure they're not having another row."

When Harry and Ginny entered the kitchen, however, they were rather surprised to see that not only were Hermione and Draco not fighting, but Draco was sitting at a table next to Dobby, chatting with him like they were old friends.

"What's going on?" Harry whispered to Hermione as Draco ignored him. Dobby had yet to notice their arrival.

"I don't know… they're being so _nice_ to each other," Hermione whispered back. "They were the same way in the bathroom; I don't know why."

_"Malfoy's_ being nice to a house elf? To _his_ former house elf?" Ginny hissed.

"Later, when I get a chance, I'll talk to Dobby and see what it's all about," Harry said, and the three of them dropped the discussion and dug into the small feast laid out on the table between Hermione and Draco.

* * *

Monday morning dawned bright and early, and Harry, Hermione and Draco got up and dressed, all of them nervous and quiet. Draco wasn't even bothering to make snide remarks. They would have to go to classes today, and none of them were looking forward to it. Between the rumors already flying around the school and the way Hermione and Draco had been spending their time together, being with other students didn't seem like a good idea.

"What classes have you got today?" Harry asked Hermione as the three of them left the room early, hoping to get down to breakfast, eat, and get out before the hall got too busy.

"Potions, Charms, and then Transfiguration," Hermione told him.

"Hey, guys," Ginny called when they reached to common room. "I was just coming to see you… gonna brave the Great Hall today?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "Neville told us last night that Filch is over his cold, and we don't want him to find out that we know where the kitchens are. So we're going to breakfast early."

"Too early," Draco muttered, following them out the portrait hole.

"So, are you two ready for exams?" Hermione asked Harry and Ginny. Harry gave a nervous sort of nod and Ginny shrugged. "I'll have to take the Transfiguration test today, but I think I'm prepared… do you guys want to study together tonight? Or do you have Quidditch Practice?"

"No, Slytherin's booked the field—uh-oh." The four of them stopped walking. Draco smacked his forehead.

"I can't believe I forgot about Quidditch practice tonight!" Draco moaned.

"Well, you can miss it," Harry said coldly, "it's not like you're going to win the Cup."

"You beat us by fifty points, Potter," Draco snapped. "All we have to do is flatten Hufflepuff and then—"

"You'll never get past Hufflepuff, now that they've got Macmillan for captain and—"

"Hey, the only team that's ever lost to Hufflepuff is _Gryffindor,_ Potter."

"Oh, please—at least I was still the better Seeker. _You_ can't win when you're trying."

"Will you stop arguing?" Hermione demanded, cutting Malfoy off. "There's nothing anyone can do about Quidditch practice. There's no way you'll be able to go, Malfoy. It's not like I'm going to get on a broom and fly next to you."

"Yeah? We'll see about that," Draco snarled, and he marched off towards the Great Hall, dragging Hermione with him by the chain.

The Great Hall was mercifully rather empty when they reached it, though the teachers were already there. Draco stalked right past the Gryffindor table and marched up to the staff, Harry and Ginny hanging back.

"Professor," he called to Dumbledore, interrupting Dumbledore's conversation with Flitwick, "I have Quidditch practice tonight, and I really need to make it… is there anything I can do?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Why don't you take Miss Granger with you, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Me? Fly with him? During _Slytherin_ practice?" Hermione said shrilly.

"I realize that could be a tad dangerous," Dumbledore said slowly. "You are not very accustomed to flying, are you?"

"No," said Hermione, who hated flying and only did it when absolutely necessary.

"Well, then, I will ask one of the staff to oversee the practice," Dumbledore told her. "To make sure there are no mishaps."

"But… but… but…"

Draco smirked at Hermione's stammering. "Thank you, professor," he said, already plotting ways to make the night miserable for her. He glanced up and down the table for Madam Hooch, but didn't see her; her chair, which was between Sprout's and Oliver's, was empty, and Draco vaguely remembered hearing that she'd caught Filch's cold. "Er… is Madam Hooch around? We'll need to borrow a school broom for Granger."

"Oh, that wouldn't be safe at all," Dumbledore said, still smiling at them. "It is far too difficult to fly right next to someone, especially when one is an inexperienced flyer and there are Bludgers flying about. Miss Granger will have to share your broom."

_"What?"_ both students exclaimed.

"It will be much safer that way, I believe," Dumbledore continued.

Hermione and Draco returned to the Gryffindor table, Hermione angrily sitting down between Harry and Ginny, Draco flopping down across from her, annoyed. Just when he thought something was going his way, he was told he'd have to share a broom with Granger.

"What was that all about?" Harry asked Hermione.

"I'm supposed to fly with Malfoy!" Hermione raged, smacking her butter knife down so hard on her toast that bits of jam splattered across the table. "Dumbledore expects me to go to Quidditch practice _with Malfoy!"_

"We'll come, too," Harry said sympathetically. Ginny nodded.

"No, you won't, Potter!" Draco snapped.

"You can't stop me."

"Seven Slytherin Quidditch players say otherwise."

Hermione sighed, tired of all of the Malfoy-induced fighting. "Don't worry about it, Harry—Dumbledore's sending one of the teachers to keep an eye out," she said reluctantly.

Harry frowned, not wanting to point out all the reasons he should be there—all of which involved scenarios that would make Hermione feel even more terrified. "It's okay, Harry, honest," Hermione said more firmly. "Study for your exams."

"Fine," Harry said sulkily. Ginny looked just as unhappy about it.

They ate quickly, but the hall was starting to fill and they were nowhere near done with breakfast. Just when Hermione was about to suggest they go down to Potions early, someone cleared their throat. Hermione looked up to see two very ugly, pink-clad girls standing behind Draco.

"Malfoy?" said of one of the girls, the taller one, whose hair was up in two ponytails. She was wearing a low-cut, frilly pink dress and, like her companion, she was enormous, an even mix of muscle and fat. Hermione stared at her for a moment before turning to look at the shorter girl. The second girl had on a short pink miniskirt which revealed a pair of large hairy legs and a white T-shirt with rainbow letters displaying the caption "Proud to Be a Lesbian."

Draco turned and stared at the girls in surprise for a moment, wondering why they were talking to him, before recognition finally dawned on him.

_"Crabbe?"_ he gasped at the girl in the miniskirt. He looked at the other. _"Goyle?"_

"We can't get our hands unglued," said Crabbe in his thick voice as Harry, Hermione and Ginny burst out laughing. Crabbe held up his hand, which was clasped firmly with Goyle's.

"Who did this to you?" Draco asked, laughing a little as he pulled out his wand.

"Didn't get a good look," Goyle said. "We were busy 'talking' to Longbottom. There were two of them, though, and they had red hair."

"Guess Fred and George haven't left yet, then," Harry choked out, tears streaming down his face from laughing so hard.

"Damn it, guys, what did I tell you? _Avoid the Gryffindors,"_ Draco said angrily, shaking his head.

"We were just having a bit of fun," Goyle insisted.

Draco rolled his eyes and tapped their joined hands with his wand; Crabbe and Goyle pulled their fingers away and rubbed at their wrists. "Be more careful, will you? You might get stuck together permanently," Draco said, glaring down at his own wrist where the invisible cuff linked him to Hermione. "Or worse."

"Can you fix our clothes?" Crabbe asked plaintively.

"I don't have time for that," Draco said coldly. "Go change."

"Are you coming back soon?" Goyle whined.

Draco shrugged. "I hope so. Go on and change. Don't forget about practice tonight."

Crabbe and Goyle hurried from the hall; laughs sounded from everyone they passed. "Oh, that was priceless," Hermione said, clutching her sides.

"Annoying as the twins can be, you can't deny they're funny," Ginny gasped.

* * *

Harry, Hermione and Draco were the first three students to make it to Potions that morning, having left the Great Hall as fast as possible. They went straight into the classroom, selecting a table in the far back corner where they would hopefully be less noticeable.

The Slytherins filed in first, automatically sitting far from Harry and Hermione, most of them not noticing Draco, who was slumped down in his chair, mostly hidden by the table and his cauldron. Lavender and Parvati were next, whispering and smirking at Harry and Hermione before choosing the table in front of them.

"All right, Hermione?" Lavender said.

"Grand," Hermione said dryly.

"So," Parvati said, in a tone that made it clear Hermione was probably going desperately want to smack her for whatever she was about to say, "tell us, Hermione—"

"Parvati! Lavender!" called Dean, who'd just entered with Seamus and Neville. "Did you hear what happened to Crabbe and Goyle?"

"No! _Tell!"_ Lavender exclaimed.

While Neville sat with Harry, Dean and Seamus sat down in front of Parvati and Lavender and began to eagerly fill them in on the Weasley twins' recent prank. Hermione was so relieved that Dean had turned away Parvati and Lavender's attention that she instantly forgave him for the duel and its side effects.

As the four Gryffindors laughed about Crabbe and Goyle, Hermione grew nervous; if class didn't start soon, they would run out of things to criticize (even if there was a lot to criticize regarding Crabbe and Goyle) and would turn back to interrogating Hermione. She checked her watch and was startled to realize that it was already five minutes past the start of class.

"Where's Snape?" she blurted out. "He's late."

"Why are you complaining?" Harry asked.

"I'm not… it's just weird. How many times has Snape been late for class?"

"Well… never," Harry admitted.

"Don't you think it's kind of weird?" Hermione said.

"He was missing all weekend, too," Neville piped up from Harry's other side. "It was all over school. Madam Hooch was especially upset, because he was supposed to brew Pepper-Up Potion for Madam Pomfrey and now they don't have any, and Madam Hooch caught a killer cold off of Filch."

Harry frowned. "Think it could have been… 'business?'" he asked Hermione. Though Voldemort was dead, the Order still had plenty of work to do, assisting in the capture of Death Eaters and the protection of people like Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who were still at risk from fugitive Death Eaters who'd escaped both death and the Ministry after the final battle. It was Harry and Hermione's theory that the Order was never truly dormant in the fight against the dark arts.

Hermione shook her head, remembering what Oliver had said about the teachers' confusion over Snape's weekend disappearance. "McGonagall was looking for him too, remember? Most of the teachers would know if that's what it was."

Harry shrugged. "It's probably nothing, really."

"Granger's just missing her little _pal,"_ Draco said snidely. Hermione pursed her lips and Harry glared but both did their best to ignore him.

"Speaking of missing people," said Neville, who hadn't heard Draco's comment about Snape, "where's Ron at, anyway?"

Hermione blinked. She hadn't noticed Ron was missing; she'd been trying to avoid thinking about him, as the fact that he might never forgive her made her want to burst into tears. "I don't know," she said, looking over at Harry worriedly.

"Me either," Harry said.

Neville frowned. "Did you three have a fight?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Hermione said, firmly trying to keep her mind off of where Ron might be, but anxious about him nonetheless.

* * *

Oliver was sitting at his fully-restored desk, hastily grading the last few papers for his first class, which started right after lunch. The essays weren't bad—most of them received high marks—but there were only so many variations on the topic of water monsters. Most students had just written a lot about grindylows; the most inventive essay so far was from Luna Lovegood, who seemed to think that mermaids were highly dangerous and that there were something called "Griados" that ate the toes of swimmers and lived in all lakes (which explained why Luna always wore her shoes when swimming). He was just starting on his third-to-last essay when his office door flew open. Startled, Oliver looked up.

Ron Weasley stood in the doorway with a murderous look on his face.


	22. Answers

**Chapter Twenty-One**

_Answers_

"Enter," Dumbledore called at the knock on his door, and looked up to see who his visitor was. Minerva McGonagall stepped through the doorway, confirming his suspicions. "Hello, Minerva," he said pleasantly. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, you could bring back reality, for a start," McGonagall said bluntly, sitting down in front of his desk and giving him her sternest look. "What, exactly, happened to Severus?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Please, don't play innocent with me, Albus," Minerva snapped. "I've known you too long for that. I have never seen anything quite as disquieting as Severus Snape was yesterday."

"He seemed rather cheerful."

"Exactly. Severus's only happiness is that derived from the suffering of Gryffindors. Where was he all weekend, Albus? Did you send him out on a mission for the Order?"

"Severus was attending to his own business, not the Order's," Dumbledore replied.

"And what business would that be?" McGonagall asked.

"I am afraid that is for Severus to disclose."

McGonagall sighed. "Well, could you at least tell me what happened between Severus and Miss Granger?"

"In what respect?"

McGonagall gave him a pointed look. "You know perfectly well what I'm talking about. How did those two end up working together on the prank war?"  
"Did they?" Dumbledore said mildly. "I had no idea. How very interesting."

"One of these days, Albus, I'm going to steal your Pensieve," McGonagall said dryly. Dumbledore merely chuckled in response. "All right, fine, you're not going to give me any answers," McGonagall said sourly. "Would you at least tell me why you're making Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy suffer?"

"I assume you are referring to the chain?"

She nodded. "Why won't you remove it? You know as well as I do that no good will come of it. They're going to kill each other, Albus; you'd have better luck with making two enemies into friends by chaining Severus to Sirius, and we both know Severus would chew off his hand within thirty seconds in that situation."

Dumbledore couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of Snape and Sirius in Hermione and Draco's situation. "Miss Granger is not unreasonable, and Mr. Malfoy is not as bad as he pretends to be. Hopefully, spending time together will help them to overcome the past."

McGonagall raised her eyebrow skeptically. "And, what, Potter, Weasley, Granger and Malfoy will end up the best of pals?"

"Where Miss Granger goes, so go Harry and Mr. Weasley."

McGonagall snorted. "Granger may be reasonable, but she holds grudges, Albus. She won't forgive Malfoy very easily, especially after this prank war nonsense. We were lucky they both lived through the prank war before the chain, never mind after. They both have horrid tempers, a lot of pent-up anger, and a multitude of spells at their disposal."

"I have every confidence that they can work out their differences," Dumbledore said firmly.

McGonagall shook her head. "You will unchain them before graduation, won't you?"

"If the solution to their problem has been found, yes," Dumbledore replied with a smile.

"Come now, Albus," McGonagall said. "You've known how to unchain them from the start."

"Perhaps."

"Perhaps, nothing. Do you really think there's anything to be gained by subjecting them to this? Surely you've heard about the rumors flying about?"

"I have heard a few," Dumbledore said with another chuckle. "I do so wonder who invented the tale that Miss Granger had murdered Severus."

McGonagall couldn't help but smile. "Honestly, Albus, Hogwarts can't take much more of this. Poppy is ready to quit, and Argus was very upset that he finally got over his cold only to have to mop up a flooded fourth floor and clean up cheese slices and pork chops in the entrance hall. They left a trail of food from the Great Hall to the prefects' bathroom, Albus. Surely you can't let this continue for _too_ long?"

"They will work things out, Minerva," Dumbledore told her. "I am sure of it."

* * *

Oliver swallowed nervously, staring at the furious Weasley in his doorway. Normally, a seventh-year student was not something Oliver would fear, unless it happened to be someone who was highly intelligent and a Death Eater's offspring (and to be both smart and a follower of Voldemort was rare), and even then, Oliver was probably advanced enough to win a fight. His father had been in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for decades, and had taught Oliver everything he knew. On top of that, the members of the Order of the Phoenix had taught him plenty of spells and charms, both offensive and defensive, and Oliver had done a lot of his own research, having always enjoyed the subject. So his skills in a duel were rather sound.

Ron, however, was a different matter. Ron was tough, maybe not as skilled as Harry or Hermione, but still a natural butt-kicker and on his way to being an Auror. Not only that, but there was something intimidating about being glared at by a guy who had been barely seventeen when he had helped defeat the most dangerous Dark Wizard of the age, if not ever. It was even more intimidating to be glared at by just such a guy when he was holding his wand and probably knew that Oliver had seen his girlfriend's ass.

"Um… Ron. Hi," Oliver stammered, wishing his office had an exit other than the one Ron was standing in. "What can I do for you?"

Ron smiled a maniacal sort of grin that made Oliver even more uneasy. "It didn't click at first, Oliver," Ron said silkily, taking a step forward. "I was too shocked about the tattoo and the hickeys. Then I remembered what Malfoy had said. 'I do believe Wood and the Little Weasel already knew.' Mind telling me how _you_ knew about my girlfriend's tattoo?"

"Hey, it's not what you think," Oliver said desperately, standing up in case he needed to run. Who the hell came up with that dumb rule about not Apparating inside Hogwarts? "She's never cheated on you. Not that I know of, anyway. Honest."

Ron's face darkened even more at that last word. "You have any idea how long I've liked Hermione?" Ron said dangerously. "Since before we became friends. Since my first year. I finally asked her out last summer. She said yes. We agreed to never act too boyfriend/girlfriend around Harry. We've had a really good relationship. We still bicker all the time, but people do that, now, don't they? Then I find out that she's going behind my back with other guys?"

"Listen, Ron, I'm serious, I haven't touched her since you two started going out!" Oliver insisted.

"But you've touched her before that?" Ron raised his wand up to point at Oliver, pure fury in his eyes.

_Oops._ "Well… well… a little."

"Define 'a little.'" Ron's face was slowly turning as red as his neck and ears.

"A… a little… um… not a lot! We… we hardly ever did anything!" Well, that was a blatant lie, but at least Ron was looking at him more with suspicious anger than undiluted rage.

"If you've 'hardly ever done anything,' then how did you see her tattoo?" Ron demanded.

"Um… well…" Oliver searched for something to say. He'd seen it several times, but Ron did not need to know that. It wasn't Ron's business, anyway; Ron wouldn't be hearing anything if he wasn't a pissed-off guy who was strong enough to help kill Voldemort. Oliver knew he'd have to be careful; Ron's temper was infamous.

At last, the answer came to him: _tell him the first time you saw it… and pretend you never saw it afterwards._ It was genius. It was genius and it just might work. He'd be telling a half-truth, which was less detectable than a lie, and the first time he'd seen it had been rather innocent, as a matter of fact. He was fairly certain that Hermione hadn't told anyone, though; from what she'd explained during their time together, she'd only told Ginny about her tattoo, and that was a very abbreviated version; Hermione had told Ginny not long after it had happened, and only because she'd been sharing a room with Ginny later that summer and Ginny had glimpsed the tattoo on accident when they were changing, and demanded to know about it. Ginny also knew about Hermione and Oliver, but not nearly everything; Ginny had been the only person Hermione had ever told about their kiss at the World Cup. It had been the first secret she'd ever told Ginny, actually, and Ginny keeping Hermione's confidence was what had made them friends in the first place.

Oliver swallowed, hoping Ron believed him, and that telling him this wouldn't make Ron even more homicidal.

"I was there when she got it."

Ron went rather still, frowning, obviously not having expected that. "What?"

"I was there when she got it," Oliver repeated. "In the tattoo parlor."

Ron gave him a thoughtful look through narrowed eyes. "All right," he said, "go ahead and explain. But this had better be good."

Oliver nodded and sighed, wondering where to begin. "Hermione ever tell you that she and I used to hang out in the summers?"

"At Grimmauld Place?"

"No. I mean, yes, but last year, when she went back to her parents' house for a few weeks, I visited her sometimes when she was hanging out with her friends."

"What friends?"

"Her Muggle friends. People she was friends with before Hogwarts."

"Like who?"

"There were over a dozen of them. It doesn't matter. The point is, we had plans one day to get together with some of her friends, and when I showed up Hermione and four of her girlfriends were already there, talking about getting tattoos. I was really confused, Hermione was kind of tipsy—"

"Hermione was _drunk?"_ Ron interrupted in disbelief.

"No… she was kind of tipsy. The others were pretty drunk. Anyway, the next thing I know they're dragging me to a tattoo parlor. I was there when she picked it out, hung out with her while she got it done. The idiot tattoo artist gave her the bright idea of squeezing my hand to distract herself from the pain. She about broke my finger."

"She let you sit there while someone put a tattoo on her ass?"

"It's not on her ass, really. It's on her lower back. Couldn't really see anything important," he added quickly.

Ron still looked suspicious. "You expect me to believe this?"

Oliver struggled desperately to come up with some sort of proof. "I… wait!" He shoved up his sleeve, revealing a tattoo of the Puddlemere United Quidditch team's logo. "I had them do this while I was there. Ask Hermione to show you the picture of it. We met up with some more of her friends right after that, at a bar in London, and one of them wanted to take a picture. It's a Muggle photo of five girls, showing off the tattoos on their backs. You can see my arm in the picture. Hermione pulled me in at the last second, demanded I be in the picture too. One of her hands is pushing her shorts down just enough to see the tattoo, the other is holding my arm towards the camera."

Ron thought about this for a moment. "And you haven't done anything with Hermione since we started going out?" Ron asked, his eyes flashing a warning brighter than Polaris.

"Of course not. She wouldn't do that, and neither would I." _Unfortunately,_ Oliver added silently.

"Okay," Ron said, nodding to himself. Oliver struggled not to breathe a sigh of relief, lest Ron think he was lying. Ron stood up and smiled coldly. "If I ever find out that you're lying to me, I'll Stun you, then cut you into little pieces with a rusty knife, understand?"

Oliver nodded vigorously and Ron swept out of the room without a backwards glance.

Oliver sighed, feeling drained as the adrenaline left his system… and even more hopeless about Hermione than he'd felt all year.

Oliver sank back into the memories of Hermione. Her Sorting, how she'd stood out because she was the only first-year whispering excitedly and looking around in wonder rather than trying not to wet their pants. He'd thought she was pretty, but, seeing as how she was only eleven, he'd tried to put it out of his head. It had clicked that he couldn't ignore her forever right before Harry's first Quidditch match, when he'd been watching Hermione try to get Harry to eat and reminiscing about his own first match. Then he'd seen Harry finally take a bite of toast from Hermione's hand, just to shut her up, and he'd had an overwhelming urge to strangle his own Seeker. The day he'd realized he liked her, when she'd been force-feeding Harry toast… and how his Gryffindor bravery had completely failed him when it came to plucking up the courage to do something about it.

He hadn't said anything to her over the next three years. While hanging out with Harry—usually "as a team," with Fred, George, Angelina, Alicia and Katie, and Lee, Hermione, Ron and sometimes Neville and Percy (who was a roommate of Oliver's) hanging on—he'd managed to pick up a few things about her. Like the fact that she was Muggle-born, and that she was actually only a little over three years younger than Oliver, rather than a full four, as she was almost twelve when starting Hogwarts. But he'd only interacted with her one-on-one during his seventh year a few times, and their conversation had centered around the first Quidditch match Harry had ever lost. Two days before Ravenclaw's match against Hufflepuff, Hermione had decided to tell Oliver off.

* * *

_Flashback

* * *

_

Oliver and Percy were the only two in the dormitory at the moment, and Oliver wished Percy would leave. Exiting the dormitory meant he'd be subjected to the twins' boisterous jokes and teasing—their own special version of "let's cheer up Oliver," which usually led to Oliver or someone in the vicinity visiting the hospital wing—or Angelina, Alicia and Katie's overly nice tones and attempts to make him feel better. So he'd chosen to remain in the room—but Percy was best taken in small doses, especially since he'd made prefect.

It wasn't that Oliver disliked Percy. They had a lot in common. They were both very driven people—they just drove in different directions—and they shared the almost foolishly brave quality of all Gryffindors, and the tendency to stand up for themselves and others. But Percy got boring on occasion, and there was nothing worse than being around Percy while he Studied. It wasn't that he was talkative or distracting. It was that he chewed his quill loudly, and rubbed out his mistakes loudly, and said "SHH!" loudly when anyone in the room spoke above a whisper, and ruffled parchment and book pages and muttered to himself and often let out loud cries of dismay whenever he couldn't remember a fact or he happened to lose something vital to the process of doing homework. So Oliver was lying flat on his back, trying to block out the annoyance that was Percy While Studying, timing himself to see how long it would be before Oliver snapped and trying to think of something to do when he did have to storm out of the room. Then, without warning, someone banged on the door.

"Oliver, could you get that?" Percy asked distractedly, sounding irritated at the very thought that someone dared come knocking during Study Time.

"Sorry," Oliver said, yanking the hangings shut around his bed, sure the girls had come looking for him. "I'll give you my last chocolate frog if you tell them I'm not here."

"What would _I_ want with a chocolate frog?" Percy asked contemptuously.

"Penelope collects the cards," Oliver pointed out, and grinned to himself when he heard the door open.

"Oh, hello," said Percy, sounding surprised. Oliver hoped that meant it wasn't someone from the team; Percy usually sounded bored or casual when greeting most of Oliver's friends, or exasperated when the twins came by. "What can I do for you?" Percy continued in a polite, almost formal tone. Oliver frowned, confused.

"I've come to see Oliver, Percy," came, to his shock, Hermione's voice. Oliver's eyes widened, wondering what she wanted with him. Probably something to do with Harry, he told himself with a sigh. Hermione was nice to him, but she didn't exactly pay him much attention.

"Oliver's not here," Percy lied. Oliver cursed himself for ever making that deal and thought fast, trying to come up with a way to pop out of his bed without looking like an idiot. He could probably say that Percy just hadn't noticed him come in and lay down…

"Oh, really?" said Hermione. Oliver sighed. She didn't even sound a _little_ disappointed, just… sort of… determined?

"HEY!" Percy exclaimed suddenly, amidst the sounds of a scuffle. Oliver's confusion just had time to deepen before the hangings around his bed were thrown back, revealing Hermione. Oliver jerked into a sitting position.

"Hey!" he yelped, utterly startled. "What if I was naked in here?"

She rolled her eyes, as if it was laughable to think there might be consequences to yanking aside the hangings around a seventh-year guy's bed without knowing if he were clothed. She shot a glare at Percy before turning back to Oliver. "Hello, Oliver."

"Hello, intruder," he shot back. He knew the generally accepted practices when talking to your crush—especially when said crush had just burst into your bedroom—were to act pleasant, but she'd just scared the crap out of him and didn't exactly look like she was here to throw herself at him. She looked more likely to throw a punch at him.

"I was invited," Hermione said imperiously.

"What are you, a vampire?" Oliver retorted.

"You weren't _invited,_ anyway," Percy muttered. He was rubbing one arm with his other hand, looking sour. "That _hurt."_

"Percy, could you give us a minute?" Oliver called over her head. He didn't know what Hermione wanted, but he figured it would probably go better without Percy Studying in the background.

"I was _studying,"_ Percy complained.

"Which you can't do when people are talking in the background," Oliver pointed out.

"Fine. Hurry up," Percy said sulkily. He shut the door behind himself, still rubbing his arm.

"So?" Oliver asked Hermione. "What do you want?"

"I want you to stop acting like a prat."

He gaped at her, nonplussed. "When was I acting like a prat?"

"You haven't stopped sulking like a two-year-old ever since that match. If I hear someone comment that you're off drowning your sorrows _one more time,_ I'm going to _really_ drown you!"

"I happen to be a little upset, okay?" Oliver said dryly. "This is my last year, Hermione. If I don't win the Cup this year, pro-Quidditch scouts and teams aren't going to pay one bit of attention to me. I'm a great Keeper. It's all I've ever wanted to do. And I can't do it if I'm just 'the Keeper from the Hogwarts team that hasn't won a game since the great Charlie Weasley left.'"

"Well, you're depressing Harry," she said severely. "It's not Harry's fault the dementors came inside the grounds, it's the _dementors'_ fault."

Oliver glowered at her. "Oh, well, excuse _me._ Harry knows I don't blame him, and if he doesn't then he's not going to believe it if I tell him again. I don't know what you want me to do about it."

"I _want_ you to stop whining."

"I haven't been—"

"You've been sulking, which is bad enough. I don't know a thing about Quidditch, but I _do_ know about numbers, and from what I understand from Fred and George you're only down by a hundred points and Ravenclaw's Keeper is better than the Hufflepuff Chasers and Cho Chang is supposed to be a better Seeker than Diggory—"

"So was Harry," Oliver muttered.

"So there's a good chance Ravenclaw could beat Hufflepuff by at least a hundred and fifty points, maybe more," she continued as if he hadn't spoken. "They'd only have to be up fifty points when they catch the Snitch, and given that Hufflepuff beat you, they'll probably want to beat the pants off of Hufflepuff, if they want to keep their hope for the Cup alive, which they'll be thinking about for the first time in years. Ravenclaw will be thinking that if they squish Hufflepuff, then all they'll have to do is narrowly defeat you and Slytherin, and they'll have the Cup. So I'd imagine their captain will tell them to hold off until they're way ahead by goals. You could still win the Cup if you'd stop sitting around feeling sorry for yourself."

Oliver raised his eyebrows. He hadn't thought about the fact that Ravenclaw might be seriously entertaining hopes of getting the Cup; Gryffindor had been the only one to give Slytherin a run for it for the past decade. Now that Hufflepuff had beaten them, the rest of the school probably thought the Cup was fair game.

His jaw clenched. That was _his_ Cup. _His._

"Maybe you're right," he admitted slowly.

"Of course I am," she said pompously, reminding him forcefully of Percy. "Now get _out_ of bed and start thinking strategy. Harry's life is hard enough, especially now that he's got a murderer after him, the whole school's making fun of his dementor problem and he actually lost a match."

Oliver felt a twinge of guilt, but he smiled at her. "Are you always this… inspirational?" he asked teasingly.

She grinned back. "No. I'm usually much worse."

She turned to go. "Hey," he called after her, not wanting to see her go just yet. She looked questioningly over her shoulder at him. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

He shook his head. "Not just for this. I keep meaning to tell you how great that was when you cast that spell on Harry's glasses back during the match."

She shrugged. "I just wish it had helped."

"It _did._ If we had won the match, it would have been because of you. Right before Harry fell, I shouted that the Snitch was behind him. If you hadn't cast that spell, he wouldn't have known what I was talking about, wouldn't have seen it. The dementors are the only reason we didn't beat them, but if they hadn't shown, we _still_ wouldn't have beaten them. Not without you. That was bloody brilliant of you."

She blushed and struggled to sound modest. "It was nothing."

"It was a hell of a lot more than nothing. It wasn't just good spell work, it was great _thinking._ I've known that spell since fifth year and _I_ didn't think of it, and you were smart enough to think of it _and_ to do it two years before it was taught to you. You're amazing."

She beamed at him, her face as scarlet as his Quidditch robes. "I… thanks."

He nodded at her, and she left. Oliver grinned happily as he lay back down, well-aware of the fact that while she had coming looking for him in order to help Harry, she'd also managed to help _him_ as well, and she'd been quite pleased to hear him compliment her.

* * *

_End Flashback

* * *

_

Oliver sighed at the memory. That moment had managed to change something between them. She'd become his friend. Not a close friend, to be sure, but a friend nonetheless. Once she'd started fighting with Harry and Ron so much, she'd chatted to him whenever she wasn't studying—which was frighteningly often—and even ate a few meals with him. Even though she was fighting with Harry and Ron at the time, she'd come to Oliver to tell him that while in the girls' bathroom she'd overheard that Cho Chang would be the Seeker for the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw match. She'd even managed to listen sympathetically while he ranted to her about how Cho wasn't supposed to make a full recovery so soon after that tumble down the Ravenclaw Tower dormitory stairs, and it was because of Cho that Hufflepuff had lost so badly to Ravenclaw, although there were rumors that if Cedric Diggory hadn't been so enamored with Cho he might have been paying more attention to the Snitch… and somehow that had led to an embarrassing argument over whether or not Cedric was too old for Cho. Cedric was a sixth year, after all, and she was a fourth, but given the placement of their birthdays they were almost three years apart. Oliver supposed he shouldn't have said that bit about "That's like saying you and I couldn't date," because after that she'd turned pink and run off soon afterwards and he'd kicked himself but good for it.

It wasn't until the World Cup that he'd truly let himself think that she might return his feelings. He'd come across her giggling over by the water tap line, and she'd told him that he looked good, then blushed and hurriedly said that she'd meant he knew how to properly dress like a Muggle. He'd teased her a bit, and she'd finally said something about Harry and Ron and run off. Then they'd gone for that walk together… both unable to sleep, worried about Voldemort… and he'd somehow managed to pluck up the bravery to kiss her goodnight in front of her tent. He'd felt the urge to run afterwards, but she'd grabbed him by the jacket and they must have been making out for nearly a half hour when Bill came out of the tent, scaring them both to death. They'd both stammered pathetically—Oliver vaguely remembered Hermione saying something about braces being stuck together, though neither he nor Bill had a clue about what braces were—but Bill had been cool about it; he'd said he was just on his way to wake up the girls and they'd better say their goodbyes if they didn't want the twins to see what they were up to.

They'd started writing letters after that, him telling her all about his frustrations at being only a reserve Keeper for Puddlemere and her telling him about Rita Skeeter and Harry's troubles with the Cup. He'd been utterly surprised to see her at Headquarters when she'd joined the Order; after managing to distract the twins, the two had hung out for a bit in the attic and she'd explained that she hadn't written him because the Order was reading all their mail to make sure they weren't giving anything away to Harry, and she hadn't wanted to explain why she was writing to him. They'd spent an ungodly amount of time together that summer and the next; he'd even missed a few of his first practices as starting Keeper just to see her. By the summer after Voldemort's defeat he'd felt utterly privileged that she'd invited him to hang out with her while she was with her Muggle friends. The Muggles Harry and Ron hadn't even known about. They'd accepted Oliver, and he'd overheard on more than one occasion someone referring to him as "Hermione's hot boyfriend from her boarding school."

After Harry's birthday, at which he'd put in an appearance, he'd left Hermione's side to go back to training for the upcoming Quidditch season, finally a starting Keeper for Puddlemere, but he'd felt very positive about Hermione on the whole. Their time during the summers and their letters during the school year had become more and more serious. Then he'd gotten injured, decided to teach at Hogwarts to be closer to her… and she'd dropped this bombshell out _of nowhere_ that she was with Ron now and planned to stay with him and she was so sorry. God, he'd wanted to strangle Ron.

In the end, he'd decided to wait, see how things panned out. Here it was just before Christmas, not even six months into her relationship with Ron, and it didn't seem to be going very well. He'd had a very heartening, very secret talk with Ginny early in the year—apparently Ron's own sister, Hermione's best friend, didn't think it was going to work out, either.

"He'd be marrying his mother," Ginny had told him. "They're just not compatible, Oliver. It's not that Ron isn't smart, it's that he's _uninterested_ in being smart. It isn't that Hermione doesn't want to break rules and walk on the wild side, it's that she knows when it's a bad idea. Hermione needs someone who knows what it's like to be passionate, driven, focused. Ron's only along for the ride. Ron needs someone to laugh at his jokes and take care of him, not boss him around. I think they're together because they like each other. I don't think that'll be enough. You need more than attraction—even emotional attraction—to keep a relationship going. They're better off as friends, and I hope they realize that before it's too late."

Oliver didn't know if she'd been telling him this because she knew about Oliver and Hermione—he knew the first secret Hermione had told Ginny exclusively was the kiss at the World Cup, that it was one of the things that had cemented the two girls' friendship. However, he sincerely hoped it wasn't. He cared about Hermione… but lately there was a nagging little voice in the back of his head that said he might not be all that depressed if things didn't work out with her.

He just wasn't sure how much more he could take. The insanity that surrounded her and Harry and Ron didn't appear to be slacking off anytime soon. He had noticed this over and over again—hell, he'd been dancing on common room tables when Harry had become Seeker, only to discover that Harry had an odd knack for ending up in the hospital wing or fighting giant snakes or being hunted by mass murderers or being accused of mental instability by the entire world. There were rumors that the three of them wandered into the forest periodically to battle evil creatures, chat up the centaurs and even hang out with a real-live giant. And the prank war… no prank war had ever been this intense. Oliver's own seventh-year prank war had been so tame he barely noticed it, except for when Fred and George (who didn't care at all about the fact that they weren't seventh years at the time) got bored and targeted Percy and occasionally Oliver himself (although that was rare, as Oliver had the power to kick them off the Quidditch team or make them practice until two in the morning).

He'd seen other people get sucked in by it, too. Neville Longbottom was great at it—and if there was one person who didn't need any more freak accidents, it was him. Luna Lovegood… well, it was hard to tell if it was Harry's cosmic problems or hers that put her in awkward situations. But Oliver had had many a problem with it himself, most especially this year. He didn't know if he could handle any more of it.

And it was still only the first term of his employment.

* * *

"Ron? Why aren't you in class? Finally becoming a full-fledged Weasley?" Fred asked as he turned towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts office and nearly ran smack into Ron.

"Wanted to talk to Wood," Ron said darkly. "Had a few questions for him."

"Why didn't you let us ask?" George said. "You know we could have dragged it out of him."

"I got the answers I need," Ron muttered.

"What about?"

"Hermione," Ron growled. "He says he never did anything with her while we were going out."

"I could have told you that," Fred said, rolling his eyes. "Hermione wouldn't cheat on you; did you really need to bother asking Wood?"

"What about the hickeys, though?" Ron said. "The ones Malfoy mentioned."

"Oh, come on, Ronniekins, think about what you just said," George said with a sigh. "Malfoy? Not the most reliable source in the world."

"He was telling the truth about the tattoo."

"Doesn't mean he was telling the truth about anything else," George said bluntly.

"Even if he was," Fred added, "that just means he saw hickeys on her neck that _he's_ sure were from Snape. Didn't you say Hermione was messing with his head the whole time, making him think all sorts of things about her and Snape?"

Ron frowned thoughtfully, then perked up a bit. "Maybe you're right."

"We're always right," George said. "It's probably not half as bad as you think."

"Hmm." Ron sighed and started walking, figuring he'd wander around aimlessly until it was time for his next class. "That still doesn't mean I should forgive her for this tattoo thing, though," he pointed out.

"Oh, come on, Ron, she knew you'd just give her hell about it if she did tell you," George said.

"Yeah, like we're gonna." Fred grinned. "Look, if you don't want to apologize, then don't. But the longer you wait, the less chance there is that _she'll_ want to hook back up in the future."

"I don't care," Ron lied, feeling like he'd been punched in the gut. He adored Hermione. Yes, she could be annoying with her bossiness and stubbornness and homework devotion and her temper and her cluelessness about Quidditch, but he still really cared about her. He didn't want to lose her, not as a girlfriend, and not as a friend.

* * *

_End Notes:_ People who read this story before the editing often asked for more of an in-depth look at Oliver and Hermione, and I finally decided it was time to make something up. Hope it's not too shabby.

…

Almost Cheese Spirit time.

Cue evil grin.


	23. Snape's Christmas Spirit

**Chapter Twenty-two**

_Snape's Christmas Spirit_

"Stop humming, Granger," Draco snapped irritably.

"I'm not humming," Hermione said absently, too worried about Snape, Ron, and the fact that Parvati and Lavender were close by to pay much attention to Draco's attempts to annoy her. In fifth year, Dumbledore had insisted that Snape lower his requirements so that more students could make it into the N.E.W.T.-level Potions class—more Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws, anyway, as Slytherins easily made it into Snape's class, no matter their grade. Only Harry, Hermione, Draco, and (quite surprisingly) Neville had made top Potions scores on their O.W.L.s, but the other Gryffindors had decided to keep taking Potions in light of the war. At the time, Hermione had thought Dumbledore was right to change Snape's rule—now, she thought it had been the stupidest thing the headmaster had ever done. _Why_ wasn't Snape arriving? Parvati and Lavender would remember her before long!

"Come on, don't be childish, I can hear you humming," Draco said tiredly.

"I'm not humming, Malfoy!" she snapped.

Draco opened his mouth to reply, then closed it, realizing he could still hear the humming when she was speaking. "Potter! Are you humming?"

"I don't hum, Malfoy," Harry replied shortly. "No one is humming. You're delusional."

"I hear it too," Neville spoke up.

"Well, it's not me," Hermione said, glancing around as the song reached her ears. Dean, Seamus, Parvati and Lavender were still talking, and Slytherins didn't strike her as the type to like the jaunty tune the culprit was humming. Now that she was listening, the song sounded vaguely familiar.

"Hang on," Harry said slowly. "That's that song from that Disney movie… 'Whistle While You Work.'"

"That's a dumb name for a movie," Draco scoffed.

"There's a movie… called _Whistle While You Work?"_ Neville asked, struggling to recall what his Muggle Studies professor had said about movies.

"No, it's the name of a song _from_ a movie," Hermione said. She frowned, wondering who on earth would be humming a song from the Disney version of _Snow White_ at Hogwarts. Quite suddenly, however, her question was answered… and she immediately wished she hadn't found out. Hermione gaped, unable to fathom what she was seeing, as stunned as her classmates.

Snape had returned.

There was some doubt about whether it was really him, however. His greasy hair had obviously been given a thorough wash, and his black robes were open over green slacks and a red Christmas sweater, which said "Ho, Ho, Ho!" in yellow letters around the collar and "Merry Christmas!" over a picturesque Christmas scene with Santa and his reindeer landing in a sleigh atop a gingerbread house. The image was complete with snowmen, a gingerbread family wearing little hats and mittens, snow-covered pine trees and mountains in the distance beneath a night sky filled with stars and a crescent moon. On the front pocket of Snape's robes were two small bells that jingled faintly, tied with green and silver ribbon to a patch that said "Jingle Bells." That wasn't the worst of it, however. Snape was not only humming, he was humming "Whistle While You Work," and all while _grinning _and fairly _skipping_ into the classroom like a little kid heading downstairs on Christmas morning.

It was terrifying.

As he reached the front of the class, Snape did a little shimmying dance step before completing his song and grinning even more widely at the stunned Gryffindors and Slytherins before him. He suddenly flung out his arms (Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode, who were sitting in the front row, ducked instinctively) and said cheerfully, "Good morning, class!"

Well, there was only one possible reaction to that: As one, the class decided that Snape was quite dangerous, and every last student gasped in unison and leaned as far away from Snape as their chairs would allow.

"How are you all today? Good, I hope?" Snape said in the same happy tone. His only response was a couple of dropped jaws and quite a few shivers of horror. "That's a great song, isn't it?" Snape continued, not noticing the revulsion and fear on his students' faces. Then, he did the unthinkable.

Snape began to sing.

He began in a rather merry singing voice, then whistled so loudly that most of the class jumped before continuing, humming or whistling when the song called for it. Pansy and Millicent scooted their chairs back until they ran into Crabbe and Goyle's table. A few audible gulps could be heard and more shivers were seen as Snape completed his song with a flourish.

This left the class without anything much to say.

_My god, he knows a **Muggle** song,_ Draco thought in horror. His very world appeared to be shattering, and this Hallmark version of Snape was doing the shattering. _He knows a Muggle song from a Muggle movie! AND WHAT IS WITH THAT SWEATER! Snape doesn't own Christmas clothes! He doesn't even own colored clothes! And BELLS! No, this can't be right, this is a nightmare, this is just some horrible dream brought on by having to room with Granger and Potter—wait! This must be THEIR fault!_

Draco whipped his head around to Hermione, intent upon demanding to know what she'd done to Snape… and found her gaping at Snape with the same expression of numb shock as the rest of the class. Harry's expression was only slightly different; he was obviously doing something he'd done a lot since the beginning of the war with Voldemort: running over his options, planning spells for offense and defense. Draco watched Harry's eyes sweep the room, lingering on all possible exits and weapons.

"Well," Snape continued, "that's one version of the song, anyway. Would anyone like to hear the other?"

Neville whimpered.

"No? Ah, kids these days, no appreciation for music…" He chuckled. "Well, I apologize for my tardiness—"

"He makes one wrong move, we head straight for the door and slam it behind us," Harry murmured to Hermione. "We'll try to let as much of the class out as we can, but as soon as he gets close, we'll put an Imperturbable Charm on the door and run for Dumbledore, okay?"

Hermione blinked, coming back to her senses slightly, and turned to look at Harry with an exasperated expression. Even Draco was giving him a "how much of a paranoid dumb ass can you be" sort of look, though Neville's eyes had widened at Harry's instructions and he looked ready to wet himself. Pursing her lips, Hermione turned back to the front and slowly, still nervous, raised her hand.

"Yes, Hermione?" Snape said, apparently too far away in his own little world to notice the shocked gasps from the class at the use of her first name.

"Um, P-professor," Hermione squeaked, "a-a-are you all right?"

"I'm great!" he exclaimed, clasping his hands behind his back and rocking back and forth slightly. "How are you?"

"V-very well, thank you," Hermione stammered, looking anything but.

"Professor, could we take our exam now?" Seamus asked desperately, in an attempt to get them out of class as quickly as possible.

"Oh, yes, the exam… well, I meant to plan it out over this past weekend, but I was far too busy to get it done," Snape said in an off-handed sort of tone. Everyone stared in shock; Snape had forgotten to make an exam? For a class filled with Gryffindors? Usually, he came up with the hardest exam possible, just to see as many Gryffindors as possible fail, and graded it easy for the Slytherins or whispered advice to them while he prowled the rules. The shock over the lack of exam was nothing, however, compared to Snape's next words. "Tell you what, why don't we just… just skip the exam and all brew our favorite potion? Or perhaps a potion to give as a gift for Christmas?"

"That… is… what… there's no way I'm brewing a potion for a Christmas gift!" Theodore Nott suddenly burst out.

"Oh, prefer to buy your gifts?" Snape said. His smile finally slipped, but only momentarily. "Or do you just not celebrate Christmas, Theodore? I _am_ sorry, I should have thought—"

Blaise Zabini elbowed Theodore Nott in the ribs and muttered something that sounded like, "What are you doing? Do you WANT to take an exam?" Blaise gave Snape an obviously fake smile and said, "I think it's an excellent idea, professor."

Snape smiled back at him. "I used to make my mum a potion for Christmas every year," he said, a distant look in his eyes. "I'd buy her chocolates, too. She used to love those things from Honeydukes… Yes, why don't we, everyone? We'll all brew potions for our loved ones! At the end of the class, I'll get you all some nice flasks to put them in so you can give them as gifts for Christmas! Or whatever holiday you celebrate," he added, nodding at Theodore. "In fact, why don't we just make this optional? If you don't feel up to it, don't worry, there's no obligation…"

No one made a move to brew a potion, but Snape didn't seem to notice. "Loved ones… You know what? I'm suddenly reminded of the first potion I ever made…"

"My god, he's having a flashback," Hermione whispered. "Okay, Harry, you were right."

"It was just before I started Hogwarts," Snape continued, still smiling, this time reminiscently, his head tilted back until he was staring up at the ceiling. He gave a little jump backwards and landed on his desktop casually. "It was a love potion, if you can believe that." Everyone in the room shook their heads vigorously. "I'd met the most wonderful girl in Diagon Alley while shopping for my school things… she was a pretty little thing, with red hair and green eyes, and just as nice and smart as can be… pity she was later Sorted into Gryffindor." Snape sighed and dropped his head back to eye level with his students. Then he burst out laughing, looking right at Harry. "Oh, Potter, if you could see the look on your face, even _you_ would laugh."

Everyone turned to look at Harry, who looked mortified, as though a gangrenous, gore-covered zombie would have been easier to stomach. Hermione, who remembered what she'd told Harry after Malfoy's prank on her and Snape, was the only one who had any idea what was wrong with him, couldn't suppress a small giggle. Harry turned such a furious glare on her that she recoiled, bumping into Draco. Draco frowned as he shoved her away and did his best to piece together just what was bothering Harry; he knew there had to be something else besides Snape, as Harry looked a lot worse than he had a few moments ago… and the fact that Harry had inherited his green eyes from his redheaded mother popped into Draco's head.

"BWAHAHAHA!"

Everyone jumped, and Hermione spun around and backed into Harry. Draco was laughing louder and harder than he ever had before.

"Ah, figured it out, did you?" Snape said, grinning. "Great, isn't it?" He laughed again, and Harry shook his head in disbelief.

"I don't believe it," Harry said in awe, shaking his head. "Even when he's pretending to be Mr. Rogers, he STILL hates me."

A small snort was heard from Hermione as she struggled to rein in her laughter, and Harry glowered at her angrily once again.

"Anyway," Snape said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, "as Potter can undoubtedly tell you, the potion went horribly wrong."

"Good," Harry muttered, his hand clenched around his wand as he glared at Snape.

"I'd found it in one of my school books, which I was looking through before term started… I still remember every ingredient," Snape went on, not having heard Harry. "First, the potion called for dragon's blood and powdered rose quartz…"

Draco listened to Snape's description, grinning his head off. Snape had had a crush on Harry's mum! Oh, the horror Harry must feel…

"…And I didn't have any sarsaparilla root, so I sent the house elf out to get some, right? Only the elf wasn't too bright, and came back with a Muggle drink—Barq's root beer. I figured it would work just fine, as it had sarsaparilla in it. But sure enough, things later went sour… Or should I say, cheesy?" He laughed, though no one quite caught the joke.

Slowly, Draco's good humor faded. What was wrong with Snape? Why was he acting like this? Was this another ruse designed to confuse him?

_Of course it is,_ he told himself, realization dawning. _This is about messing with my head. Well, it's not gonna work. I'm gonna prove he's just making this up as he goes along! He'd never admit to having a crush on someone—**anyone**—even if it did make Potter… _Draco took a moment here to look over at the sickly green tinge to Harry's face and grinned before returning to his mental rant about Snape. _…I'm not going to let him mess with me… I'm NOT… this is about the prank war, that's all! Well, if he's willing to go all out, so am I!_

Draco dug out his stash of potions ingredients and began to line them up next to his cauldron, taking careful mental notes of everything Snape said.

* * *

"Well, little brother, you don't have to decide if you want to prank Hermione right now," Fred was saying as they wandered aimlessly through the halls of Hogwarts. "I mean, come up with the plan, then figure out if you want to do it—because if you do, then you need to have the plan first, right?"

"I guess," Ron said vaguely, lost in thought.

"Crap," George said suddenly, staring down at the end of the hall. "That's a Slytherin, she'll tell Snape you're out of class, better get out of sight, Ron—"

Ron squinted at the Slytherin, who didn't appear to be one of the Slytherin prefects. "I'm a prefect," Ron reminded George. _"I_ put _them_ in detention." Ron headed towards the Slytherin, who upon closer inspection appeared to be Daphne Greengrass, a girl in his year—and his Potions class—who dyed her hair black and always smelled of cigarette smoke. "Hey, you! "Greengrass!" he called. "Why aren't you in Potions?"

"Why aren't you, Weasel?" she retorted. "Did you see Snape, too?"

Ron paused. "Snape? What about him?"

"You haven't seen… well, you're missing the creepy event of the lifetime. I was running late for Potions, and as I'm walking down there, I'm walking behind this weird guy with nice hair who's humming his head off. Then he turns to go into the Potions room, and I realize it's Snape. Or someone who drank some _bad_ Polyjuice. Soon as I saw how whacked out he was, I turned around. So I don't care what you try to do to me, Weasel, I'm not going in there until someone figures out how to fix him."

The three Weasleys looked at each other, eyebrows raised. Then, without a word, they pushed past Daphne and raced down towards the dungeons.


	24. Love Poems and Root Beer

**Chapter Twenty-three**

_Love Poems and Root Beer_

Draco had listened carefully to Snape's story, which had described the ingredients and potion-brewing process before detouring off to tell about how, just as he was sitting down to start the potion, he'd received a letter from the object of his affection (Harry kept involuntarily gagging through most of this part) and had sat down immediately to write his reply to Harry's mother, whose name he still had yet to reveal to the rest of the class. The story was becoming funnier and funnier; Draco, however, sat fuming in the back corner throughout the whole story. The more Snape talked, the more convinced Draco was that this was all some elaborate joke designed to fake Draco out, and the more convinced he was to prove that Snape was lying.

Draco had memorized the entire process and had gathered all of the ingredients for the potion, save one. Where, exactly, was he going to find a can of Muggle root beer?

There was, obviously, no root beer to be had in the classroom. Wizards didn't stock Muggle soft drinks, so he wasn't sure if he could get it at all in Hogwarts, but he had to try. He vaguely recalled the Muggle Studies professor mentioning that the elves got him Muggle drinks occasionally, so he might have a chance if he went to the kitchens, especially now that Dobby was working there. Hopefully, Dobby would either have some or know where to get some—but how to get to Dobby?

Draco's hand shot up into the air. "Professor!" he called loudly, cutting off Snape. "Granger and I have to go to the bathroom!"

Hermione shot him a startled, what-the-hell-is-wrong-with-you look as Snape looked over at them in surprise. "You're excused, Draco, Hermione," he said, and went back to his story.

Draco leaped out of his chair, grabbed Hermione by the back of the shirt, and dragged her bodily from the room. Hermione had time for one startled glance at Harry before they were out the door. Every Gryffindor and Slytherin turned to stare at the door, then at Harry, who looked slightly cornered and shrugged, not understanding it himself.

"What are you _doing?"_ Hermione hissed, shoving Malfoy off of her the moment they were out of the classroom.

Draco bit his lip, having no time to come up with an even slightly plausible explanation. So he settled for the truth.

"We're going on a secret mission, Granger! We're off to regain my sanity!"

With that, he darted off down the corridor, heading back for the entrance hall, his eyes shifting about nervously for signs of trouble, hugging the wall and moving so fast that Hermione practically had to run to keep up with him. The whole time, she grumbled and scolded him.

"What the hell are you doing? Where are we _going?_ I've got news for you, Malfoy, there's no regaining it. Your sanity is gone for good. Stop going so fast! Malfoy! What's your _problem?"_

Draco refused to answer her as he half-dragged her to the entrance hall and through the door that led to the Hufflepuff dormitories and the kitchens.

They stopped in front of the door to the kitchen. Draco tickled the pear while Hermione stared at him in disbelief. "All this because you were hungry?" she said incredulously. "Couldn't you have just waited until class was over?"

Draco pulled open the door and stepped in, then hurriedly shut it in Hermione's face. "Hey!" she exclaimed, and reached for the handle. Draco seized it to hold it still and pressed his body against the door, doing his best to keep her from getting in. The last thing he needed was for Hermione to ruin his plan.

"Draco, sir!" came Dobby's familiar squeal. "Have you come to visit Dobby, sir?"

"Um… actually, I need your help," Draco said apologetically.

"Anything, sir!"

"Listen… have you ever heard of Barq's Root Beer?"

* * *

Hermione twisted the doorknob, her shoulder shoving hard against the door, but it was no use. Malfoy was too heavy for her to move.

"Draco Malfoy!" she shouted through the door. "I don't know what you're up to, but so help me, if I—"

The door suddenly swung inward, and Hermione, who'd been leaning heavily on the door and pushing hard, lost her balance and stumbled forward, nearly colliding with Draco, who had opened the door and now stood there, giving her a smile that turned into a smirk when he saw her fall. She glared up at him as she righted herself.

"Come on, Granger," he said, "we're missing class." With that, he walked away, Hermione staring daggers at his back as she trailed behind him.

* * *

"So then, the last part of the potion calls for an incantation, if you can believe it—which is rare in potions, as I later discovered, but increases their potency. Anyway, I was rather surprised that the last step was to visualize the person I intended the potion for and speak aloud a love poem. It had to have three four-line verses, every other line had to rhyme, and most importantly, it had to be composed by the person who was brewing the potion. As you can imagine, this took quite some time. Writing poetry was never exactly my strong suit," Snape was saying some time later. He chuckled, as did several of the students. Gradually, the seventh years had started to relax, once it became apparent that Snape's lapse in character was not a warning that he was about to get out his wand and perform the Killing Curse on anything that moved. After all, the sight of Snape in a Christmas sweater and Snape telling them a story about something to do with his crush on a Gryffindor was bound to wear down their fear and replace it with humor.

Draco, meanwhile, was the only person who wasn't the least bit entertained (with the possible exception of Harry). Draco's potion, carefully brewed via the instructions in Snape's tale, was almost complete, and when it was finished, he would prove that it was not some botched love potion but something else entirely, thus proving that Snape made the whole thing up, which would mean that Snape was, in fact, still an evil Slytherin bastard, which would mean that Draco would regain some small shred of the sanity he'd lost on the day he'd spiked Granger's pumpkin juice.

Unfortunately, it looked like if he really wanted to be certain that Snape was lying, he was going to have to follow the last few steps, as well—and that meant composing a love poem.

Draco almost decided to scrap the idea right then and there.

After much internal debate, however, he decided that it couldn't be THAT hard to come up with twelve lines of poetry. People did it all the time, right? _Let's see,_ he thought, frowning at the murky pinkish-red potion. _What sort of thing goes in a love poem? Stuff about… um… oh, who cares, I'll just throw in a bunch of girly words and call it a day. Girly words… cute, adorable, pretty, sweet—sweet, there we go. "Sweeter than…" What sort of things are sweet? Um… puppies, I guess, and chocolate… what the hell would rhyme with chocolate? Focklut? Hock a lot? …Okay, I just won't use chocolate. What about puppies? I hate puppies, screw that…_

Draco frowned; the love poem was going to be harder than he thought. Still, he reasoned that if it was this hard for him, it must have been a lot harder for Snape, and as such Draco was far more certain that Snape had never actually done any of it and in about twelve lines Draco could definitely prove that Snape was, in fact, a devious little jerk. Draco resolved to think harder, but the potion smelled absolutely foul, which was interfering with his concentration and making him wish he had bothered to learn an air-freshening spell… wait.

_"Sweeter than air-freshener!" No, "sweeter than AIR!" Air rhymes with everything! Sweeter than air… what else rhymes with a lot of stuff?_

Draco glanced around the room for inspiration. Parvati was taking notes in the row in front of him and giggling with Lavender. Hermione was watching Snape with both amusement and thoughtfulness, as though trying to figure out what had happened despite how funny it was. He glared at Hermione, reminding himself that whatever it was that had gotten into Snape probably had something to do with her. Everything was all her fault, after all.

As his anger with her boiled to the surface, a sudden image of Hermione during the food fight sprang into his mind, her foot on his chest and a bottle of honey in her hand… and he grinned widely, causing Hermione to shoot him a funny look and remind him that he was staring at her while looking happy.

_"Honey!"_ he thought happily, turning away from Hermione quickly. _"Sweeter than air, sweeter than honey… now I just need something that rhymes with air! Fair? Bear? Hair? Mare? Glare? Pair? Maybe. Share? Care? Wait… wait… Aunt Andy's wedding picture, what was the inscription on it? She and Uncle Ted always had those little poems written all over pictures and cards and stuff… god, what did that picture say? Dare, the last word was "dare!" Yeah! "A love that I dare!" I remembered it because I didn't understand it in the slightest… okay, that's three lines. "Sweeter than air, sweeter than honey, a love that I dare…" what was the rest of that poem? It had the word "shall" in it… "Shall be my…" my… what? What rhymes with "honey?" Money? Funny? Bun… oh, god. I am **not** using "bunny." I absolutely refuse! Bunnies… evil little rodents… I'll never look at one again without being embarrassed, thanks to Dumbledore. Can't believe he took my suggestion—what suggestion? It was a JOKE! A sarcastic comment! And he knew that, I'm sure he did… I REFUSE to use the word "bunny!" That's it. They're all against me. Granger, Potter, even Snape! That's why I'm brewing a supposed fudged love potion to prove Snape wrong and trying to convince myself not to use the word "bunny." Well, they won't win. I REFUSE to use the word bunny! REFUSE! There are more words in the world; they won't get me with this one..._

_…Still, even if I did use it, it's not like Potter and Granger would **know** I refused to use it, so they wouldn't know they'd won, and that's the whole point, right? …NO! I still won't do it! Oh, they're good with their games, even turned my own mind against me! But I will NOT use "bunny!" "Bunny" is out! They'll never get me to utter that demonic word outside of that wretched password ever! I still REFUSE! I refuse to use "bunny" or "love" or… wait; I already used "love." Well, it IS a love poem… damn it, why can't I just say a bunch of crap about shagging?_

Ten minutes later, however, Draco had failed to come up with anything better than "bunny." Reluctantly, he started memorizing the first four lines of his poem, then moved on to compose the second verse.

_Gods above, this potion reeks… come on, brain, think… who else do I know with a love poem I can steal from? Hah, that's a laugh. Um… damn this smell, it stinks worse than limburger cheese… hey, wait, that could be a line! "More smelly than—" no, I can't use smelly, that's not mushy… um… synonyms, come on, let's think… smell, scent, fragrance… "More fragrant than cheese!" Cheese'll rhyme with lots of stuff… please, fees… how would I use them? Um… fleas, sees… Seas! Yeah, girls always put something about the ocean in poems, don't they? So what would be a good line for after cheese? Cheese, what goes with cheese… spaghetti? Damned if I could make that rhyme… wine? Wine! Wine… rhymes with mine… ah-ha! "More fragrant than cheese, more tasty than wine," and then… um, as… as… er… love? Lovely! "As lovely as the seas, shall be only mine!" Hey, this isn't so hard. It sucks, but he didn't say it was supposed to be a good poem, now, did he? Wait… aren't poems supposed to have a… beat, or something? What did Mum call it, meter? Oh, who gives a damn, it'll work. It sort of does have a beat, anyway… duh-duh-duh-duh, duh-duh-duh… my god, I'm singing a love poem in my head. That's it, I need a few lines about liquor, or Quidditch, or… hey, this is MY poem, why can't it be about shagging? That's sort of like love, right? From a girly view, anyway. Okay…_

_"Let's shag by the…" something that rhymes easy… "Let's shag by the…" something else that rhymes easy… and then two more lines, and I can finally show him what for! HAH! Let's see, where do people usually shag? Who cares, not like it matters… stupid Granger, she ruins everything. I could've gotten some this weekend, but nooooo… Hmm, maybe I'll just bring girls up to the guest room. I'd just have to get the drop on Potter and Granger… God, this is all Granger's fault. I'm going to be stuck to her for who knows how long… she's interfering in my social life! Argh! How much more will I have to suffer? Why must Granger ruin everything? Why couldn't I have gotten chained to someone who I could shag? Not that Granger's bad-lo—AAAAHHHHHHH!_ Draco clamped his hands over his ears and shook his head vigorously, as though there was some evil external force about him that was causing his thoughts and if he just closed all passages to the brain, he could get it to leave. _No, _he moaned mentally,_ she's horrible-looking, she's a troll… damn it, I KNEW looking at her naked would scar me for life…_

"What are you _doing?"_ hissed Hermione, and Draco looked up to see her staring at him oddly. "Trying to keep a thought in? Not that you have many…"

"Ha, ha, Granger," he snapped, glancing around to make sure no one else had noticed (and quickly letting go of his ears, just in case the thought did do what Hermione had suggested). Not even Harry had seen Draco's strange display; Harry was too busy convincing himself that he had to remain vigilant in case Snape snapped at any moment, so he didn't quite catch Draco's rather erratic movements. Not that he would have cared, anyway. Hermione had only noticed because Draco had disturbed her arm via the chain.

Draco forced himself to act naturally and shove thoughts of Hermione out of his head. He had to finish the poem. He had to prove his teacher was still a Slytherin, so that Snape would rejoin Draco's side and smack down all those pansy-ass Gryffindors once and for all!

_I'm cracking up,_ Draco realized, and sighed heavily before returning to his poem and struggling to finish it. _"Let's shag by the..." Hmm… people shag in beds… and on floors… and in empty classrooms—no, that's too long—and in the common room, and in the shower, and in the forest, and in the locker rooms, and by the fire if it's winter—fire! Fire rhymes with plenty of stuff! Okay, where else? I'll need a second verse… by the forest? Girls write a lot about nature… I think… um… the lake? No, that only rhymes with "fake" and "make," neither of those would work… well, it does rhyme with "shake," but I **am** going to have to say this aloud… god, I'd better be as quiet as possible… what about "river?" No, that only rhymes with "shiver." Um… "pond?" What rhymes with pond? Bond, fond? Wand! WAND! Ha! I'm so good at this… Now, what rhymes with fire? Tire, mire, dire—no, it's all too depressing… squire? Sire? AH! **Desire!** Yeah, that's good for a love poem... now... hmmm..._

Searching the classroom for more inspiration, Draco couldn't help but notice Snape. The potions master, whom many a student feared, was now sitting at his desk, feet propped up, chair tilted back, hands clasped behind his head as he told his story, which was still not over by the sounds of it. "So then, I took the porcupine quills, said the poem, and added the last line, 'because I love you,' and then tossed the quills in—"

_"…Explore our desire." _Eyes widening slightly, Draco cringed both outwardly and inwardly as the thought popped into his head, causing Hermione to look at him oddly again. Images of Snape and Hermione together were now coursing through his head, and it wasn't too pleasant. He gagged slightly, shuddering.

"It was simply ghastly," Snape was saying. "A thick green smoke started pouring from the cauldron, much to my dismay, and a smell like you wouldn't believe came with it..."

_It's now or never, Draco,_ Draco told himself, and seized the handful of porcupine quills he'd set aside earlier.

"And then the most horrifying thing came out of that cauldron!" Snape continued. He paused, laughing. "Oh, it was absolutely dreadful."

"More than sweetest air," Draco said shakily, as quietly as he could and still be even vaguely audible, "more than sweetest honey, a love that I dare, shall be my," a bitter taste filled his mouth as he reluctantly forced himself to continue, "love bunny."

"What's gotten into you _now?"_ Hermione whispered, rolling her eyes. Draco swallowed and continued, doing his best to ignore her, but her gaze was making him nervous and his voice shook slightly; for the first time, he wondered what might happen if Snape was telling the truth.

"More fragrant than cheese, more sweet than grape wine, lovely as the seas, shall be only mine—"

"Malfoy?" Hermione said, staring at him in disbelief. "Are you saying a LOVE poem?"

That caught even Harry's attention; he looked over curiously. Draco could hear Snape say, "So there it was, three feet tall, evil as can be—"

"Let's shag by the fire—"

"What the hell are you doing?" Hermione whispered more urgently.

"Let's shag by the pond—"

"A horrible, foul-smelling—" Snape said.

"Explore our desire—"

"Do _what?"_ Hermione and Harry demanded together.

"Cheese Spirit," Snape concluded dramatically.

"Let's forget our wands!" Draco finished.

Draco moved to throw the porcupine quills into the cauldron and realization dawned on Hermione. "NO!" she shrieked, jumping up to knock his hand away, but Draco was too quick, hopping out of his chair and sidestepping her.

The entire class spun to look back at them; seven years in a potions classroom with Neville Longbottom teaches a strong sense of alertness to screaming. Thirteen pairs of eyes fixed on Hermione and Draco, just as Draco shouted, in a voice filled with triumph (about proving Snape a liar, mostly, but hey, no one else knew that), "BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!" just as Hermione threw herself forward—

"NOOOO!" shouted Snape, leaping to his feet and drawing his wand, but it was too late.

With a wide, victorious grin, Draco tossed in the porcupine quills.


	25. The Cheese Spirit

**Chapter Twenty-four**

_The Cheese Spirit_

Harry's brain was still trying to process the chain of events. One minute, they'd been listening to some ridiculous tale by Snape, who appeared to have finally lost it, and the next, Draco was muttering about wine, shagging, and desire. The next thing he knew, Hermione had freaked out, Draco had professed his love to Hermione, and Hermione had thrown herself into Draco's arms.

Harry didn't have time to dwell on yet another impossible event occurring in Snape's morning class, however. Hermione smacked into Draco, her arms outstretched, Harry presumed, to throw around Draco's waist, but Draco was off-balance and they both went toppling over on the other side of Draco's potion, which had turned a dark, putrid green and begun to emit thick smoke. An incredibly nasty smell, like a mountain of limburger cheese, began to fill the room, accompanied by a loud and unpleasant sound, like a magnified, drawn-out mooing noise.

"No one move! Stay still! Don't panic!" Snape yelled, sounding quite panicky himself.

The fog of green smoke grew at an exponential rate, until Harry couldn't see his hand in front of his face. "HERMIONE!" he yelled, and then gagged, coughing on the fetid haze of smoke.

"Har—" Hermione's voice broke off into choking sounds as she, too, inhaled the smoke.

"Get off me, Granger!" Draco gasped.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the smoke began to dissipate, until only the rancid stench was left behind. "Hermione!" Harry called again, when he could at last breathe through his mouth more or less normally. "Are you okay?"

"She won't be if she doesn't get off me!" snarled Draco.

"What have you _done?_ You IDIOT!" Hermione wailed.

When the smoke cleared completely, Harry was able to see that a ruffled Hermione and a worried-looking Draco were staring at the cauldron in trepidation. Harry turned to look and felt his jaw unhinge in horror.

Standing in the cauldron was one of the creepiest creatures Harry had ever seen. Its entire body was three feet tall and roughly humanoid in shape, with extremely lumpy skin that ranged from palest green to yellow-white to yellow-orange in random blotches. It had no hair or external ears, just little indentations where ears might be, and its fingers were wedge-shaped like blocks of cheese. Large black eyes stared around at the class from a face that reminded Harry of nothing so much as Lockhart's pixies.

Everyone was perfectly still, holding their breath (well, that might have had something to do with the stench) and watching warily. The Cheese Spirit smiled, revealing double rows of razor-sharp teeth.

"BOOGA BOOGA!"

The Cheese Spirit's yell was so sudden that most people jumped even as they started screaming. There was instant terror; it was as if the Cheese Spirit had threatened to kill them all or produced a chainsaw.

"Do not panic! DO NOT PANIC!" Snape shouted, but no one was listening; everyone was too busy running for the door.

"Come on, Harry!" Neville yelled.

"You go!" Harry told him, and started forward, determined to make sure Hermione got out okay. "I'll catch up!"

"RAWG!" The Cheese Spirit lunged forward and waved its arms threateningly, wedge-shaped fingers curled into claws. Harry leaped back and drew his wand, watching it warily.

"Oh, for crying out loud, what is everyone screaming about?" Draco muttered as he marched towards it. "It doesn't look dangerous to m—AAAAHHHHHHH!"

With a guttural shriek, the Cheese Spirit launched itself at Draco, its razor-like teeth visible, then jumped onto his head, holding tightly, and with a graceful turn, sank its teeth into Draco's shoulder. Draco screamed and began doing an odd sort of dance, trying to shake the Cheese Spirit from his head and succeeding only in lodging its teeth in deeper. He began beating on its head, trying to get it to let go of his shoulder, scared to death and wondering if the bite should be painful. No blood or rips in his clothing could be seen as the Cheese Spirit lifted its head. Licking its lips, the Cheese Spirit turned to Hermione, grinning eerily as she attempted to back away from the fondue reject before she remembered her wand. As she wasn't able to think too clearly with the Cheese Spirit eyeing her, preparing to jump again, her choice of spell wasn't the best. _"Expelliarmus!"_

The Cheese Spirit, confused only for a moment, went to lunge for Hermione when Harry, unable to get a clear shot at the Cheese Spirit to cast a spell, ran up and tried to punch the Cheese Spirit in the back of its head. That only turned its attention to him, and took Harry's hand in its mouth, bit down, then spit it back. Harry grimaced at the sight of his wand and hand, all covered with warm, slimy cheese that stank to high heaven.

Snape's voice made everyone, even the Cheese Spirit, start. "Whatever you do, do NOT let that thing outside of this room!" Snape was doing his best to get to the back of the room, but the flow of students making for the door was slowing him down, no matter how many he shoved out of the way.

Shrieking, the Cheese Spirit turned to Snape and hissed. "Seweeeeruuuus..." Letting out a howl that sounded more like a laugh, the Cheese Spirit pushed away from the three, jumped onto a nearby table, and made a mad dash for Snape. "SEWEEERUUUUS!"

As the final student—Neville—ran out, slamming the door behind him, Snape turned towards the cry of the Cheese Spirit. Face hardening in resolve, Snape planted his feet and readied his wand, staring down the grotesque vision of the Cheese Spirit as it ran, knocking things over as it went, shrieking and flapping its arms like a voodoo priest, its short legs bending at odd moments.

It might have been an impressive sight, really—a small, violent demon running straight at a powerful wizard. However, this was a demon made of cheese, and a powerful wizard who'd lost his mind and was wearing a cheesy—um, dorky—Christmas sweater that took away most of his intimidation factor. Harry, Hermione and Draco all turned to watch nervously as the Cheese Spirit suddenly made a flying leap at Snape.

* * *

"Hey, calm down! Everyone calm down! It's okay, it's locked in there!" 

Ron was doing his best to calm down the screaming Slytherins and Gryffindors who'd come pouring into the hall. (Well, he really only cared about the Gryffindors, but the Slytherins were there.) "It's locked in!" Ron repeated. "Snape and Harry and Hermione will sort it out!" Ron, Fred and George, who'd been spying on the class since long before the Cheese Spirit's appearance, had seen the whole thing, and hadn't had time to run for it before the class had run for the door and forced Ron and the twins back, cutting off their exit to the first floor. The Slytherins now stood on one side of the three Weasleys—the side leading towards their common room—while the Gryffindors stood on the side of the corridor that would take them to the entrance hall.

"What the hell _was_ that thing?" Parvati gasped.

"Harry and Hermione are still in there!" Neville exclaimed worriedly.

"Hey, if anyone can deal with it, it's Harry and Hermione," Lavender said. Ron shot her a dirty look. "And Ron," she added quickly.

"Don't worry, guys, we're all safe, and I'm sure—" Ron broke off; he could hear the evil cackle of the Cheese Spirit from inside and he shook his head nervously and stepped away from the door, just in case. "I'm sure they can handle it. Neville, go get Dumbledore, will you? He ought to know about this."

"Yeah, sure." Neville ran off at top speed.

"What do we do?" Parvati asked, wringing her hands.

"We wait here," Ron said, trying to sound more certain than he felt. "For now, all we can do is wait for the all-clear. If it sounds like it's getting worse in there, then we'll go back in and give them backup."

"Forget that," Blaise Zabini spat. "I'm out of here."

"Hey! Draco is still in there!" Pansy yelled at him.

"So?"

"We can't just _leave_ him!"

"Hey, you want to go back in there and fight some freakish demon creature, be my guest," snapped Theodore Nott.

Pansy narrowed her eyes at him. "Fine. Leave. I'll be sure to tell Draco you guys left!"

Suddenly, none of the Slytherins were too eager to leave.

Ron rolled his eyes at the Slytherins and turned to Dean, Seamus, Parvati and Lavender. "I'm sure they'll be fine, guys," he told the Gryffindors. "Harry and Hermione have handled a lot worse."

"I'm so glad you're here, Ron," George said, latching onto Ron's arm and pasting a mock-terrified expression on his face. "You're such a big, strong, take-charge kind of guy!"

"Yes, you'll protect us, won't you?" Fred asked tremulously, grabbing Ron's other arm, his eyes darting around as though looking for the demon.

"Oh, shut up," Ron growled, trying to shake the twins off his arms.

"OH MY GOD WHAT IS _THAT?"_ Fred screamed suddenly.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!" the rest of the class shrieked, and without a single backwards glance, Gryffindors and Slytherins alike took off running, leaving the three Weasleys alone in the corridor.

Both Fred and George burst out laughing, releasing Ron and clutching the wall for support. "Oh, that was priceless," Fred wheezed.

"Good one, Fred," George gasped.

"I'm surrounded by idiots," Ron muttered, throwing up his hands and turning to watch the door warily.

* * *

Harry, Hermione and Draco stared as the Cheese Spirit flew closer and closer to Snape, and then— 

_"JUUSTO!"_

—and just like that, the Cheese Spirit was knocked out of the air. It landed in an unconscious heap on the floor in front of Snape, who smirked down at it.

"HA!" he gloated, pointing his wand at its body. "I was ready for you this time, wasn't I, Dorwilaron? You… you cheese-flinging bastard, you! HAHAHA!" He looked up at the three students. "Don't worry, it's okay. I know how to get rid of Dorwilaron here."

"Dorwilaron?" Hermione repeated.

"Yes, Dorwilaron the Dairy Demon."

"Dorwilaron the Dairy Demon?"

Snape nodded rather solemnly. "That's what I called it."

Harry, Hermione and Draco gave him a funny look. "…You… named it?" Draco said faintly.

Snape rolled his eyes and glowered at Draco. "I messed up a potions ingredient and conjured a dairy demon and I figured it needed a name, since it was locked in my wardrobe for six hours while I looked up the spell to fix the whole mess. I swore I'd never do something that stupid again." Taking in the looks Draco, Hermione and Harry were giving him, Snape finally frowned. "I was ten years old, okay?" He turned to Draco. "What's your excuse, by the way? Was Hermione not giving you enough trouble so you figured you'd literally make some, or did you just have a cheese craving?"

Draco glared at Snape. "I thought you were lying. So I decided to prove it."

Snape gaped at him, then laughed the Old Snape laugh—all bitter sarcasm. "Draco, if I told you that pointing your wand at yourself and saying an incantation would kill you, would you try to prove me wrong by doing it? How _stupid_ can you be? Idiot boy!"

"How could you even THINK about trying it?" Hermione snapped at Draco. "The gods only know what you've done to Harry!"

"I don't care what I've done to Potter! I care what I've done to _me!"_ Draco retorted, looking mortified at the thought that his Cheese Spirit bite could have side effects.

"What kind of idiot brews a potion with those ingredients?" Hermione demanded. "The caffeine in the root beer would have caused a negative reaction on the rose petals, and everyone knows that rose petals are used to make spirits appear! And all the extra love herbs you used—coriander, ginger, vanilla—and that's not to say anything of the other stuff! Nutmeg and anise—"

"What are you talking about, Granger?" Draco snapped.

"D'you have any IDEA what's in root beer?" Hermione told him, fairly shouting now. "All sorts of herbs, most of them used to enhance divination and psychic ability or for _love potions!"_

"Well, there is some consolation," Snape muttered. "At least it bit him."

"What does _that_ mean?" Harry demanded in a panic.

"My god, what's happening to Malfoy?" Hermione asked. Odd parts of his skin and hair were turning a shade of pink that slowly darkened to a beautiful shade of fuchsia.

"That would be the bite," Snape said wearily. "If it bites you, any part of your body that it touched or bit turns—"

"MY HAND!" Harry wailed.

"MY HAIR!" Draco wailed, and grabbed a glass bottle off of a nearby table to check his reflection. "AAAAHHHHHHHHH!"

"It goes away, don't worry!" Snape said hastily.

"WHEN?" Draco shouted. _"WHEN?_ MY HEAD IS PINK! AGAIN!"

"Well, the pink goes away in about six hours, if I remember correctly," Snape said, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement. "Then it turns the color of white cheese, then yellow cheese, over a space of about six hours, then it becomes a sort of moldy green for another hour. I think. Regardless, it only lasts for about thirteen hours."

"ONLY?" Harry roared. _"ONLY?"_

"Well, compared to the other problems the bite causes, this is quite minimal—"

"What other problems?" Draco demanded.

"Well, as Granger said… the root beer causes a lot of problems. Where did you find a can of Barq's root beer, anyway?"

Draco frowned. "Dobby. I went to the kitchens when you let me go to the bathroom."

"You went to the kitchens with Malfoy? During class?" Harry asked Hermione incredulously as he dug a dragon-hide glove out of his pocket and covered up his pink hand.

"No, I was _dragged_ to the kitchens," Hermione replied, glaring at Malfoy.

"What are the other problems?" Draco repeated worriedly, heading for his desk and seizing his hat, then pulling it as low over his head as he could.

"Well, the most annoying parts, as I recall, were the psychic visions. They're quite bothersome, mostly because they usually don't make sense in the slightest. As for the other effect… well, who were you visualizing, Draco?"

"What?"

"You followed the directions exactly?"

"Yeah…"

"Then who did you visualize as the intended recipient while you spoke the love poem?"

Draco blinked. "I didn't visualize anyone," he said. Draco had been too busy worrying that Granger would catch on to what he was doing and muck it up to remember that he was supposed to visualize a girl that he wanted to make fall in love with him.

"Did you, Potter? Did you think of anyone while he said the poem?"

"No—"

"Then you're probably both safe from the other side effects," Snape said. "So don't worry about them. The visions are more annoying than anything else—you'll see a flash of the future or something, just a jumble of images that probably won't make sense until it happens for real. That goes away after about a week. You might also spout miniature prophecies, a line or two about the future. Hopefully, if neither of you visualized anyone, the effect should be lessened. And ignore any strange dreams for the next week or so, okay?"

Harry and Draco just sort of stared at him in horror.

"Um… right," Hermione said. "Back to the point… what happens to the Cheese Spirit?"

"I say we toss it in the fire," Draco said, tugging his hat down a bit more and rubbing his shoulder.

"It's a demon, though, isn't it? Would that even work?" Harry asked.

"No, it wouldn't," Snape replied. "There is only one way to get rid of it, as I discovered twenty-nine years ago. And it is most certainly not pleasant."

"Wow, a demon-banishing ritual," Hermione said, her eyes lighting up. "Can I help? That would be so interesting—"

"There is something _seriously_ wrong with you," Draco said, giving her an annoyed look.

"Shut it, Pinky."

"Actually," Snape said, ignoring the argument, "you will all have to help. This particular ritual requires four people. I had to enlist Avery and the Lestrange brothers."

"The Death Eaters?" Harry said sharply.

"They were the only people I had who'd help me with it," Snape told him, shrugging. "They were friends of mine, children of my father's friends. Well, we had best get started," he said, and turned towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked.

"To find an unsuspecting student to rope into banishing the Cheese Spirit," Snape replied cheerfully. "I swore, once we'd banished it, that I would never, ever have to do it again. Well, technically," he added, pulling open the classroom door, "I swore I would never be stupid enough to conjure it in the first pla—WEASLEY! Just the man I wanted to see!"

Snape, who'd opened the door to find three Weasleys standing in the hallway (who now all wore nervous expressions) grinned at the sight of them and grabbed Ron by the arm, pulling him into the classroom. "You can be the fourth person for the banishment ritual," Snape said, marching Ron over to the unconscious demon on the floor.

"Hey, there's no way I'm going anywhere near that thing," Ron said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Especially not to help those three." He sneered at Harry, Hermione and Draco.

"Oh, you'll do it, Weasley," Snape said in a pleasant tone, "or there will be serious consequences."

Draco blinked, looking up at Snape, the only teacher in the school who actually liked him, who favored him above Harry and Hermione, the only teacher he felt was really on his side, threatening a Weasley even while wearing his bizarre Christmas sweater and bells and smiling.

"I knew it!" Draco yelled, running forward and flinging his arms around Snape. "You really _are_ still an evil Slytherin bastard!"

Everyone just sort of stared, including Snape. "Yes, well, we evil Slytherin bastards don't usually hug, you know," Snape said in disgust, patting Draco on the back awkwardly.

"Can we banish the demon now, please?" Hermione said. "I really want to see how it's done, and we have another class right after lunch—"

"Plus that's just disturbing," Harry said, nodding at Draco, who was still hugging Snape.

"Yes, we'd better," Snape said, and frowned, trying to remember the banishment ritual. "Right. Now… I believe Professor Vector might have some colored ink we could borrow, and we'll ask the house elves to make Draco a necklace of garlic bulbs—"

_"What?"_ Draco demanded, stepping back immediately.

Fred and George, who'd been hanging back in the doorway, trying to decide if they should leave before something bad happened or stay and watch the action, immediately came into the room and shut the door behind them, sitting down together on one of the tables. "Oh, there's no _way_ we're missing this," Fred said, grinning his head off.

* * *

"Minerva? Are you there?" 

McGonagall jumped and spun to face the classroom fireplace, where Snape's head sat, smiling at her in the same creepy way he'd been smiling yesterday. "Hello, Severus," she said wearily. "I'm giving my second years their exam, what—"

"Sorry to interrupt," Snape said, nodding at the class, who promptly looked confused at his apologetic nature, "but I need to talk to you about Granger and Malfoy. I need you to reschedule their exam."

McGonagall arched an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Oh… the reason's not important, I just need them here for a while, and I don't think they'll be fit to take an exam today…"

"Tell. Me," McGonagall growled, tired of never getting any answers. "And it had better not have anything to do with this prank war, or so help me, Severus..." Letting her sentence hang, McGonagall rubbed the bridge of her nose, waiting for an answer.

Snape gave her a nervous smile. "Well... I told my morning class about the first potion I ever made… and how it went… wrong… Well, now Draco's wearing a garlic necklace while Granger and Potter draw symbols on his face—"

_"What?"_ McGonagall spluttered, startled. Whispers and giggles erupted from the class, causing McGonagall to snap around quickly, glaring at them sharply before turning back to the fireplace when the whispers disappeared.

"It's a long story—" A sudden scream, which sounded strangely like Fred Weasley and was only slightly muffled by coming through the Floo network, cut Snape off.

"ARGH! THE CHEESE SPIRIT'S AWAKE!"

"RUN!" came Draco Malfoy's panicked voice.

"Yes, well, I'll tell you later," Snape said worriedly, and quickly disappeared.

* * *

_End Notes:_ Ah, the lovely Cheese Spirit chapter. My best friend Freyja SilverWillow was an enormous help writing this one, and from what I understand it's become one of the most memorable things about this story.It's one of my all-time favorite chapters, and I'm especially proud of it.In the original posting of this story, this chapter was the one for which I received review number one thousand. God, that seems like eons ago… 

Anyway! For those of you who might wonder where the hell I got this… I know some of you ask where I get my ideas on occasion… I've decided to include the story.

Once upon a time, my dear friend Freyja and I were talking to this guy, who was quite a nuisance but very entertaining… the way movies on _Mystery Science Theatre _are entertaining. He'd asked us to teach him to do magic, saying that he'd always been intrigued by the idea of Wicca. This idea made us very frightened, as this guy using said skills was quite terrifying and possibly—no, _definitely_ dangerous, possibly deadly. So we gave him a long list of books, hoping he would never read up on it and as such, never start playing with things like magic.

Well, naturally, he contacts us a few days later to say he used cheese and a candle in a spell and something went wrong (imagine that) and now there was a creepy spirit in his house who wouldn't leave.

…Now, Freyja and I were certain this was a horrid attempt to be funny or to play a practical joke, but there was also a chance (a much larger chance than with a normal person) that he'd actually done something involving a candle, cheese and magic and was now convinced (in other words, hallucinating or paranoid) that there was a malevolent spirit in his house. Well, we did the only thing we could do—we invented a fake demon-banishing ritual and told him that performing it would get rid of his problem. The ritual was quite hysterical; it included things such as covering all the furniture in the house in garlic, eating more cheese of a different brand, a goofy chant and symbols to draw all over his skin.

This may have been slightly cruel of us, but we knew that there was almost no chance that a spirit would be conjured with cheese and a green candle and almost no chance that he really did the counter-spell. …Okay, there's a huge possibility he did the counter-spell, because he just… was that brand of dense…

Anyway, that was where the cheese spirit came from. A whacked-out guy whose furniture now reeks of garlic… antics with him show up in many a story, actually…

Another thing I wanted to mention was that Freyja SilverWillow and I did actually look up the ingredients for root beer and then cross-referenced those ingredients with the magical properties of herbs. Apparently, there really IS a lot of stuff in root beer that's used in love spells, such as coriander and sarsaparilla. Go figure.

Finally, thanks to Adel for pointing out my mistake in chapter twenty-one regarding the toast story. It has since been fixed.


	26. The Banishment of Dorwilaron

**Chapter Twenty-five**

_The Banishment of Dorwilaron the Dairy Demon_

"Hold still!"

"Shut up, Granger."

"If you don't hold still, I'm going to poke you in the eye with the quill."

"If you get that thing anywhere near my eye, I'll—OW!"

"Oops," Hermione said innocently.

Hermione sighed and pulled the quill back from Draco's face. Shortly after Snape had drawn Ron into the room (and the twins had invited themselves along), Snape had unearthed an old book that he'd gotten the banishing ritual from, which informed them that they'd need to brew a potion, draw magical symbols on Draco in certain colors of ink, and place a necklace of garlic bulbs around Draco's neck before starting a simple chant and process that would destroy the Cheese Spirit. Snape had given the twins the task of brewing the potion (they were rather good at potion brewing, given their skills with inventing joke shop merchandise, even though Snape would never admit their talent), and had gotten out the necessary ingredients before forcing Ron to make a list of anything that they might still need for the ritual while helping Harry and Hermione begin the process of drawing symbols. Needless to say, no one was very happy.

"You did that on purpose!" Draco yelled, squinting one eye closed in pain.

"Gee, do you think?" Ron said, rolling his eyes but unable to suppress a grin.

Currently, Snape had told them all to stay put and left to go get some colored ink from Professor Vector, as they only had black in the classroom, and naturally the twins had left to go to the kitchen to grab some food, using the fact that someone needed to ask Dobby to make them a garlic-bulb necklace for Draco as their excuse. Meanwhile, Ron looked up some of the book's more interesting spells and Harry held Draco still (which involved pinning his arms behind his back) while Hermione drew the rune of Elhaz, inverted and inside a circle, on each of Draco's cheeks. Or tried to, anyway. Not only was the chain making things difficult, but Draco was not, by nature, a cooperative person.

"If you don't hold still, this isn't going to work," Hermione snapped.

"So? Snape can just lock the Cheese Spirit in a trunk or something."

"Why don't we lock it in yours?" Harry muttered.

"Good idea. That way I can let it out while you sleep."

"Oh, shut up, Malfoy," Hermione said in exasperation.

Just then, the twins reappeared, dumping a load of food on a table. "There you go, ickle Ronnie poo," Fred teased, patting his brother's head while Ron glared.

"Yes, we know 'ow cwanky 'ou get when 'ou get hungwy," George added with a smirk.

"Isn't it time for you two to go home?" Ron growled, picking up an éclair and biting into it.

"We can't abandon our friends and family in their time of need!" Fred exclaimed, feigning shock. "We would never… oh, shit, is the potion still simmering?" He and George rushed over to the cauldron in which they were brewing the ritual's potion.

"Please don't screw that up," Hermione said wearily. "I want this over with."

"Yeah, I have Quidditch prac—OW!"

"Stop talking, Malfoy! You're messing me up!" For the sixteenth time, Hermione erased the screwed-up design with a quick spell and started over.

"I'm going to _really_ mess you up in a minute," Draco growled. Of all of them, he was the most annoyed, but then that was to be expected; it isn't easy to allow your mortal enemy to draw on you while anticipating chants and necklaces of garlic.

"Why are you drawing a peace sign on Malfoy?" George asked Hermione.

"It's the inverted rune of Elhaz in a circle," she explained absently.

"The peace sign is an inverted rune in a circle?" George repeated.

"No… yes… oh, shut up and brew the potion," Hermione moaned, as Malfoy moved once again, causing her to ruin the design. "Harry, this isn't working!"

"I know," Harry sighed. Then he brightened. "I have an idea—let's shove him against the wall to pin his arms, and then I can hold his head still!"

"WHAT?"

"That's a great idea, Harry!"

"Don't even think about—OOF!"

The next thing Draco knew, he was pinned against the stone wall, Harry's elbow in his gut and Harry's free hand attempting to hold Draco's head still. Draco was having none of it, however.

"This is ridiculous!" Draco roared as he jerked his head around as hard as possible to avoid Hermione's quill, which wasn't easy with Harry's hand on his head. "Let's just throw it in the fire! It'll work! There's no need to do all this stupid crap!"

"I say we Stun him," Harry said as he struggled against Draco.

"We'd have to do it over and over again, and repeated Stunning within a short period of time can cause lasting damage," Hermione said sadly.

"So?" Harry replied bluntly.

"So I'm saving that idea until he's no longer chained to my wrist," Hermione replied. "He's annoying enough without further brain damage."

For the next few moments, the three Weasleys watched in amusement as Harry and Draco had a miniature war and Hermione accidentally made little black dots all over Draco's face by jabbing him with the quill (well, "accidentally" might be the wrong word). At last, Hermione pulled back, exasperated.

"We've GOT to find a way to restrain him better!" she told Harry.

"The Binding Curse?"

"Wears off too fast."

"The Full Body-Bind?"

"So does that, and he wouldn't be maneuverable."

"…Well, that settles it. Help me wrestle him to the ground."

After much screaming from Draco and laughing from the twins, Ron, and occasionally Harry and Hermione, Draco lay on the floor, his arms pinned down by Hermione's legs as she sat on his chest and his legs held still by Harry, who was sitting on them calmly while eating some of the food the twins had brought.

"This is the only way to deal with Malfoy," Harry said as he reached for another Cauldron Cake.

"I swear, Potter, I'll get you for—OW! Damn it, Granger!"

"It slipped!" she insisted in the same innocent tone she used to defend herself every time the quill stabbed him painfully. "Now, hold STILL." With her left hand, Hermione forced his head to the side and began to draw with the right. Draco went limp, finally admitting to himself that it had to be done and would be over faster if he gave up the fight.

Within about thirty seconds, Hermione had drawn the rune Elhaz on each of his cheek, upside down within a circle (which truly did look exactly like a peace sign). "Okay," she said, brushing her hair out of her face. She swallowed and addressed Ron without looking at him; Ron was still mad at her, and would only speak to her when absolutely necessary, and even then he used a frosty tone. "What's next?"

Ron skimmed over the page. "'Draw the rune Dagaz on the castor's forehead, using black ink,'" he recited coldly.

Hermione giggled. "Dagaz?"

"The one that looks like a bow?" Fred asked incredulously, grinning his head off.

_"What?"_ Draco yelped.

Hermione firmly placed her palm on his forehead to hold him still and drew Dagaz with relish. "Hee hee, it really does look like a bow," she said, poking Draco in the temple with the quill for the fun of it.

"I'll get you for this," Draco growled.

"'On the left side of Dagaz, draw Ehwaz, and on the other, Mannaz,'" Ron told Hermione.

"What do they look like?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Like the letter M, basically," Hermione said. "They're only slightly different. Um… left as in my left or Malfoy's left?"

"Er… Malfoy's left, I guess."

"But what if they mean Hermione's left?" Harry said.

"How about Dagaz's left?"

"Dagaz has a left? How do you know which side is its left?"

"Yeah, you can't tell if it's facing towards Malfoy or away from Malfoy…"

"Yeah, it's symmetrical."

"I'm sure it doesn't matter."

"Well, if it does matter, it could be a big deal, couldn't it?"

"Well, Ehwaz is the female rune and Mannaz is the male, so given the traditional association of the male with the right and the female with the left—"

"Doesn't help us if we don't know where left is."

"Haha, you're drawing a female rune on him?"

"If your conversation is going to be even more boring, could you scoot back a little, Granger? I can't see down your shirt prope—OW!"

"If you ever say anything like that again, I'm going to put this quill through your brain!"

Everyone laughed (save Draco). "Nah, that wouldn't work, Mione," Fred said. "His head's too thick."

"Then I'll use something sharper," she growled.

"Why wait for provocation?" George said.

"Good point," Hermione said thoughtfully, and glanced around the room, as if hoping someone had left a sword lying around. Apparently no one had brought a sword to class, however; the most weapon-like instruments were quills left by the students who'd fled. She sighed, then smiled slightly. For just a moment, things had been back to normal. Ron had smiled and laughed at her threat, and it had been Gryffindors against Malfoy, just like before…

She forced thoughts of her row with Ron away and looked back at Draco critically. "Well," she said, "Ehwaz and Mannaz are both really similar, so I'll just draw as much of them as I can without knowing what they mean by left and ask Snape what goes where when he gets back."

When Hermione had completed her drawings, she leaned back again to gaze at them critically. "Good thing I never dropped Ancient Runes," she remarked.

"Could you get off me now?" Draco said listlessly.

"No," Hermione said reluctantly. "I'm not dragging you to the floor again, and we're just going to have to draw on you some more."

Draco sighed. "So I'll hold still." Hermione snorted in response and Draco rolled his eyes.

Just then, the fireplace flared green again and Snape appeared, carrying a box. "Ah," he said, nodding at Harry, Hermione and Draco, "you've started the drawing already. Good idea, letting him lay down; holding still while my friends drew on me was quite tiresome."

Draco glared at him and the Gryffindors tried to suppress their laughter. "So, you really did this yourself?" Fred asked. Unlike the others, Fred and George were taking Snape's bizarre new attitude in stride. Not only had they just won a hell of a lot of money off Lee Jordan for how long it would take Snape to crack, but they were masters of weird.

"Yes," Snape said, smiling slightly. "It _was_ rather funny, looking back."

"Did Professor Vector have the ink, Professor?" Hermione asked.

Snape nodded. "Yes, though explaining why I needed it took some work. Well, here you go, Hermione." He set the box of ink down next to her.

"Which side of Dagaz does Ehwaz go on?" Hermione asked him.

"On Draco's left," Snape said. "At least, that's where we put it on me."

Hermione giggled at the thought of Snape with three runes across his forehead and peace signs on his cheeks and went back to finishing the drawings of the male and female runes.

"Why does _she_ get to draw on Malfoy's face?" Fred said sulkily, nodding at Harry and Hermione as he poured some rosemary oil into the cauldron set up in the middle of the room. "It looks like a lot more fun than this."

"Because the last time I went near a potion, a Cheese Spirit jumped out of it," Hermione said wryly.

"So you're trusting us to do it?" Fred said. He paused and looked up at his twin, confused. George stared back, also startled at the realization that anyone would trust them to do something so important.

"Trust?" Snape repeated. Frowning, Snape promptly hurried over to the cauldron and dismissed the twins worriedly. The twins smirked and sat down to watch the face-painting.

Hermione leaned back again, Ehwaz and Mannaz having been carefully completed. "Well, that's done," she said, looking down at her drawings proudly. "What's next?"

"You need to come up with seven symbols relating to the poem," Snape said absently; he was carefully inspecting the potion.

Everyone just sort of stared blankly. "You mean, like, if he said something about love, we'd draw a heart or something?" Hermione said, wrinkling her nose.

"Yes."

Hermione frowned. "How did the poem go again, Malfoy?"

"I am never saying it again, thank you."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We NEED seven symbols. What all was in it?"

Draco gritted his teeth. He didn't want to mention the poem again, ever, but if he kept quiet, he'd never get Hermione off his chest and she'd probably jab him with the quill again. "All sorts of stuff," he said grudgingly. "I barely remember it. Wine… fire… the sea… Girly shit like that."

"That's only three, I need more." Hermione's mouth twitched with amusement, while the guys laughed outright.

"Honey," Draco growled. "Er… cheese. Love—" the bitter taste filled his mouth again, "and bunnies. That's seven."

Hermione joined in the guys' laughter. "Where do the symbols go, Professor?" she asked.

"On his chest," Snape told her. "Have him take off his shirt."

"Wait, his chest?" Hermione interrupted.

"Yes, and—"

"I am NOT drawing on his chest!"

"Yeah, she's NOT drawing on my chest!"

"Harry, you do it!" Hermione begged, turning to look over her shoulder at him.

"He's not drawing on me, either!"

"Yeah, I'm not drawing on him, either!"

"Please, Harry?"

"Er… how about we all draw straws?"

"How about you two draw straws?" Ron said firmly. "I like that idea better."

"Er… I can't draw!" Harry said quickly.

"I can't draw very well, either!" Hermione insisted.

"But you're a girl. You'd know how to draw hearts and stuff."

Hermione's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What kind of logic is _THAT?"_

Harry realized he'd said the wrong thing and decided to change the subject. "Fred, George, you wanted to draw on him, right?"

"Forget it, man."

"Yeah, the appeal has passed."

"Ron?" Harry said pleadingly.

"Oh, hell no." Ron smirked.

"I have an idea—how about you all keep the pointy quill AWAY from my chest at all times?"

"I told you, this is necessary, Draco," Snape said, giving him a half-smirk, half-smile.

"I refuse to believe that you actually went through this!" Draco snapped.

"It's in the book, Malfoy," Ron pointed out, his neck and ears red.

"I don't care! Have you MET the Lestrange brothers?"

"Yeah," Harry shot back. "Although we weren't formally introduced. A little too busy trying to kill each other."

"My _point _is, there's no way in hell they drew a heart on Snape's chest!"

"…It was Avery, actually," Snape admitted. "I recall him being very unhappy about having to draw on me, but he was the only one who could draw worth—"

"I'm NOT letting anyone draw on my chest! I've been through enough today!"

"It serves you right!" Hermione snarled. "And you don't have a choice." She pulled out her wand, knowing that she'd be the only one who would break down and draw on his chest and deciding to just get it over with. _"Stupefy!"_ she yelled, then used the same charm they'd been performing to get their shirts on and off to cut his shirt and robes open. She tossed the scraps aside and sat back down on his stomach, making sure that her knees were sufficiently holding his arms down. Only then did she notice everyone staring at her in surprise. "What?" she demanded, glaring around at them all. They all looked away hurriedly. Innocent whistling came from Harry's direction until he caught himself and stopped.

Draco unfroze a second later. "Why you little—" he shouted, and struggled to sit up.

"Lay down," Hermione snapped, shoving him back down. "I'm not happy about this, either."

"Not happy? _Not HAPPY?_ You let me up or so help me—"

"This HAS to be done, Draco," Snape cut in smoothly. "The Cheese Spirit has to be sent back to its own world."

"What world is that? Cheese Planet? Dairy Land?" Draco tried to sit up again, and Hermione shoved him back down hard enough to crack his head on the floor. Draco glowered up at her the moment his eyes regained the ability to focus, but didn't attempt to get up again. Deciding he'd stick to making comments that he knew would piss her off, he said, "I always figured you were the dominating typ—OW! GRANGER!"

"Oh, I AM sorry," Hermione said in a deadly sort of tone. "Did I just poke you in the eye—again—with this sharp, pointy… sharp, sharp quill I'm holding?" She held it above his face, poised to stab him with it. Draco glared but didn't speak.

Harry let out a snort of suppressed laughter, and Hermione turned towards him with a furious look, still holding the quill. Suddenly, everyone in the room was perfectly straight-faced.

"Now," Hermione growled, "any particular color or order for these symbols?"

"Black ink," Snape said. "I don't recall there being any order—look it up, Weasley."

Ron glanced over the page and shook his head. "Just says to draw them."

"Start making a list of the colors she'll need for the planets and zodiac symbols," Snape told him, then went back to his work, becoming absorbed in the potion process.

"Fine," Ron said reluctantly, and got out a piece of parchment from Harry's bag.

Hermione looked down at Draco's chest, a sour look on her face. Having to draw on his face was one thing; this was quite another. Frowning even harder, Hermione tried her best to ignore what was in front of her—well, technically, underneath her. It was very apparent the sun did not reach any part of him, clothed or not, like there was some sort force field around his person with the words "Thou shalt not color pleasantly!" tacked on it. Still, that didn't keep her eyes from wandering a bit. Damn it, evil Slytherin bastards shouldn't be allowed to look like that! The quill she was holding was in danger of snapping in half from her gripping it, forcing her hands to stay put and not see if his skin was really as smooth as it looked. _It's Malfoy_, Hermione told herself. _If you violate him in a room full of people, THESE PEOPLE, you'd never hear the end of it. It's MALFOY!_ Hermione shuddered. This was ridiculous. Good-looking or not, he was the biggest asshole she'd ever met, excepting perhaps a few of the Death Eaters and Voldemort himself; Malfoy didn't deserve a second glance, let alone a stare. Besides, it wasn't as if it was the nicest chest she'd ever seen. Oliver's was much nicer. And Viktor wasn't bad either. That put Malfoy third on a list of… three.

Blinking, Hermione bit back a groan of despair when she realized just what she was thinking about. That was it. She absolutely HAD to start researching the chain thoroughly, no matter how suspicious Madam Pince was of them. She'd sneak into the library at three a.m. with Harry's cloak if she had to.

She happened to glance at Draco's face, and saw he was smirking his head off at her discomfort. He raised an eyebrow at her, then yelped when she jabbed him with the quill. Determined not to let Draco see her uneasiness and embarrassment, she put the quill to his skin and started to draw.

The room was completely silent, save for the sound of the quill on Draco's flesh or dipping into the inkwell and the bubbling of the cauldron. All three Weasleys were now poring over the book, and the twins were taking notes (which was quite a disturbing thought). Hermione finally finished the symbols and hurriedly sat back, surveying her handiwork. The fire, wine glass and heart were quite well-done, though the rabbit she'd drawn looked rather like the Easter Bunny on crack. She'd done a honey pot a la Winnie the Pooh for honey, a wedge-shaped hunk of cheese and little waves for the sea, all of which were passable. She couldn't resist smiling and adding the word "hunny" on the pot, giggling at the Muggle reference.

"Hermione, please don't make any sort of happy noise when you're drawing on Malfoy's chest," said Harry, who was sitting with his back to her and couldn't tell what she was doing. "It's a tad too creepy."

"Oh, shut up," she muttered, holding up the quill threateningly when she saw Draco open his mouth to speak. He shut it grudgingly.

As soon as the symbols were done, Hermione climbed off of Draco's chest, feeling quite like she'd just been doing something horribly naughty. Shuddering slightly, Hermione picked up the box of colored ink and avoided Draco's gaze as he sat up and shoved Harry off his legs.

"Help me do his arms, Harry," Hermione said. "It'll go faster."

"Why'd you let him up?" Harry said irritably, rubbing his shoulder where it had hit the floor.

"I can't draw on his arms if I'm kneeling on them," Hermione said in exasperation, figuring that was a much better excuse than "sitting on him is too distracting."

Draco held still, thankfully, while Harry and Hermione each took an arm. Ron was given the task of telling them which symbols were meant to be which color, while the twins sat by and made comments and asked annoying questions like "Why's that one green? That's not a planet symbol, is it? What the hell is Chiron? Isn't that one of Pluto's moons? …An asteroid is not a planet. …Didn't you already draw that one? They look the same. Why does Virgo look so much like Scorpio then? Which one's Aries? Hey, don't make fun of us for being born on April Fool's Day!"

Just when Hermione was beginning to wonder how much trouble she'd get in if she tried to see if a quill would make a good enough javelin to pierce a Weasley's forehead, she put the finishing touches on Pluto and pulled back.

"Finally," she growled. "Are you done yet, Harry?"

Hermione went over to Harry's side of Draco… and discovered that not only did he have three left to do, he'd drawn Gemini sideways, confused Virgo with Scorpio, and done Sagittarius backwards, in addition to all of them being rather shaky. Hermione sighed and held out her hand for his quill.

"I told you I couldn't draw," Harry said apologetically, retreating in relief.

"Okay," Snape said, "the potion just needs another twenty minutes to boil. I'll contact Filius and Minerva to reschedule today's exams for you all…"

"The symbols are done," Hermione said wearily, leaning back and changing the color of three of Harry's drawings that had been readable enough. "Gemini is yellow, Harry, for future reference, and Aries is red, not pink… and Cancer is silver."

"Sorry," Harry said, shrugging. He'd never really cared for astronomy.

While Snape used the Floo network to contact Flitwick, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the twins glanced at the book while Draco stared sadly at his multi-colored skin. "Okay," Hermione said slowly, "it looks like we all just stand in a circle around the Cheese Spirit and Malfoy, and we—"

Hermione was interrupted by a loud cracking noise, and they all jumped and turned to point their wands at the unconscious Cheese Spirit, but the sound turned out to be from a different magical creature.

"Dobby has the necklace!" squeaked the little house elf, holding out a very strong-smelling necklace of garlic bulbs that was longer than Dobby was tall.

Draco let out a growl of frustration, looking down at his decorated skin before grudgingly accepting the necklace with a muttered thanks and throwing it on. Dobby stayed only momentarily, waiting for Snape to come back out of the Floo Network to ask if there was anything else they'd need. Snape declined and went back to the Floo Network to contact McGonagall.

"This is so stupid," Draco grumbled. "He's made this all up; I just know it!"

"Like he made the potion up, eh?" Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

"Shut up, Mudblood," Draco snapped, then instantly realized he'd said the wrong thing as Harry, Hermione and the three Weasleys rounded on him, their wands drawn.

"I've had it with you!" Hermione hissed, raising her wand, but before she could curse him—

"ARGH! THE CHEESE SPIRIT'S AWAKE!" Fred shouted.

"RUN!" Draco yelled, heading for the door, climbing onto a table in his haste to exit. Just as he was about to leap off the other side and make a break for it, he realized that Harry, Hermione, Ron, Fred and George were laughing their heads off.

"Oh, that was great," Hermione said, clutching a chair for support a few feet away from Draco. "Thank you ever so much, Fred." Draco glowered, tempted to go stomp her fingers.

The flames in the fireplace disappeared and Snape tried to stand up, cracking his head on the stone above the grate. He staggered to his feet, clutching his head with one hand, his wand with another. Seeing the Cheese Spirit still lying motionless on the floor and the others laughing at Draco's sour expression, he chuckled. "Kids these days," he muttered in a fond sort of tone. "Well," he called, "let's get a move on, all right? The potion should be just about done… yes, it's already turned green. Come on then!"

Fred and George moved out of the way, sitting down near Snape's desk while Snape directed Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco to stand around the Cheese Spirit in the center aisle. Draco made a few last muttered complaints and then took his place next to Dorwilaron in the middle of the triangle formed by Harry, Ron and Hermione.

Harry took the cauldron and threw some of its contents upon the Cheese Spirit. _"Alluette, Mauntrooet,"_ he intoned.

_"Jabini, jabini, jabini,"_ Draco recited in a monotonous voice.

Harry tossed a little more of the potion upon Dorwilaron. Suddenly a green wall of smoke surrounded the four of them, swirling about them like living flame. Hermione stared at it with interest before saying her line_. "Evil has not beat me yet,"_ she said, her tone laced with excitement.

_"Jabini, jabini, jabini,"_ Draco said nervously, wondering if he could make a break for it through the smoke or if it had some sort of magical properties that would contain him. The smoke began to pale, slowly fading from moldy green to white.

Harry sloshed almost all of the remaining potion upon the Cheese Spirit and looked at Ron. _"Any spirits who are here,"_ Ron said, sounding as nervous as Draco and edging away from the smoke slightly, even as it turned clear.

_"Jabini, jabini, jabini,"_ Draco muttered, squeezing his eyes shut. Harry tossed the remainder of the potion right into Draco's face.

_"May you now DISAPPEAR!" _all four of them yelled, Draco spitting and coughing the whole time.

A low rumbling noise, like an approaching stampede of bison, began, building louder and louder until it seemed they would all go deaf. Snape suddenly dove behind his desk; Fred and George looked at him, then at each other, and promptly dashed for the door. They were too late, however.

The thunderous noise promptly stopped, and with a loud POP, the Cheese Spirit exploded. Foul-smelling cheese flew in every direction, coating the entire room in hot, sticky, nasty globs of it.

Everyone froze, shocked, cheese dripping off of all of them. Snape peeked out from behind his desk, grinning. "Ha!" he said cheerfully. "Thank god I remembered that part."

"You could have warned us, you know," Hermione told him dryly.

"Well, I… er… remembered at the last second, you see… yeah…"

Everyone turned to glare at him.

"Well," Fred said to George, a large hunk of cheese falling from Fred's hair and landing on the floor with a soft plop, "I think it would be a good idea if we left now."

* * *

_Author's Notes:_ I apologize for my absence. Comp went boom, comp finally just got fixed, couldn't remember where I'd saved my HP files. Have now drawn map to "The Prank War" through mass of folders and subfolders. Should be reposting a lot more in recent days.

And, as I said in the original notes, the runes mentioned in this chapter are actual runes, still read today by pagans, psychics and the like. One can view more about runes at Twilight Planet, the link to which is in my home page space on my profile. Just enter the site and click "Divination." Also, some of you might know the runes under different names and/or spellings. That's just something that happens in divination; the runes' names are translated from the original language, so they're bound to be different depending on the source.


	27. Quidditch Practice, Part 1

**Chapter Twenty-six**

_Quidditch Practice, Part 1_

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you?" Hermione raged as she, Harry and Draco headed into the empty common room. "Are you _insane?"_

"I had to prove he was lying!" Draco snapped. "Shut up, will you?"

"What did it _matter_ if he was lying?" Hermione yelled. "Couldn't you have picked a better way to prove it, other than brewing a potentially dangerous potion?"

"You don't get it!" Draco shouted. "I have to figure out what's wrong with him! He must be _stopped!"_

Draco began to pace back and forth as best he could while chained to Hermione. "What could have happened to him?" he muttered. "Weasel mouthed off to him… he disappeared all weekend… and…" Draco stopped, frowning. "He came back happy." His jaw suddenly dropped and a look of horror so complete washed over his face that Harry and Hermione stared at him nervously. "Oh, my god," Draco breathed, turning to look at Hermione in total mortification. "Snape got laid."

Harry's eyes widened and he turned to look at Hermione too, waiting for her to use her cool logic and assure him that no, Snape never did anything as normal as have sex… and she completely misinterpreted the look.

"What are you looking at ME for?" she demanded.

Harry had the good sense to shake his head emphatically and stammer that he hadn't meant anything by it, but Draco had never exactly been the most perceptive when it came to Hermione's moods.

"It was YOU, admit it!" he yelled, pointing at her accusingly. "This just proves it! You've been shagging him for ages, for months! It was all you! You've driven Snape to madness!"

"First off, you're a complete IDIOT to believe that I would even THINK about doing THAT with him! It was a prank, you stupid prat! And second off, I've been chained to YOUR annoying ass all weekend, so I couldn't even possibly be an option!"

"Option? What…" Harry was looking positively green.

Hermione looked at him, expression sour. "You're not helping, you know."

"Ha!" Draco yelled, jabbing his finger at her wildly, bits of cheese falling off of his arms. "Don't think you can fool me! You have some secret way to get the chain off, don't you! DON'T YOU! ADMIT IT!"

"If I could get this damned thing off, I would never put it back on!"

"Oh, suuuuuuuure, Granger. SUUUUUUUUURE! You've been taking the chain off every night to go screw your greasy over-the-hill boyfriend, and then you come back before I wake up! Because… because…" Draco paused, stumped momentarily, thinking hard. A look of realization finally dawned on his face. "BECAUSE YOU'RE TRYING TO SEDUCE ME!"

_"WHAT?"_ Harry and Hermione both shouted incredulously. Harry burst out laughing, but Draco continued to rant.

"I've figured you out now, Granger! You've got a fetish for bad boys! That's what it is! You like your guys dangerous, and now you want _me!_ You probably put the Little Weasel and Thomas up to that duel just to get to me! Well, I'm onto you now, Granger! It'll never happen! I don't care how hot you are! ARGH!" Draco slapped his hands over his mouth, looking disgusted with him himself.

Hermione stared at him, her mouth opening and closing several times as she fought to find something to say. Unable to come up with a dignified response, she turned her wide, half-crazed eyes to a still-laughing Harry. "Harry," she said pleadingly, "I can't take much more of this. I just can't! I… we… THE CHAIN MUST COME OFF!" she roared. And then, cutting through the haze of madness, came Ginny's voice, calm and serious, just like it had been when the chain had first appeared.

_"Hermione, if we can't figure out how to get the chain off, then we'll cut off Malfoy's arm, okay?"_

Hermione froze, the "logic" hitting her soothingly… and then she dived forward and sank her teeth into Draco's wrist.

Draco let out a rather girly scream of pain and terror and began to beat his free hand against Hermione's back and head, Hermione doing her best to bite through his arm and not getting very far, between his robes, shirt, muscle and the nasty taste of the rancid cheese covering his arm. Harry hung back, torn between saving Hermione from a trip to Azkaban for biting off Draco's hand and watching with glee.

Eventually, Hermione realized that Draco's wrist simply wasn't coming off, so she figured there was only one thing left to do—strangle him, and then cut off his arm once he was dead. Then she could get his end of the chain off and just turn the damned thing into a pretty bracelet.

Hermione released his arm, spat out a mouthful of cheese and torn robes, gave herself a second to stare sadly at his arm (she hadn't even broken the skin! How distressing…) and then attempted to get him in a chokehold. Draco, however, ran for it, still screaming in a high-pitched feminine wail… but of course, he couldn't exactly get away with the person intent on chewing his arm off attached to him by the very thing that drove her to this kind of insanity. Hermione chased after him, her arms outstretched and, combined with her crazed expression, making her look like a very fast-moving zombie.

Harry watched, tears of laughter streaming down his face. As if watching them chase each other wasn't enough, they were both still covered in globs of hot cheese, Draco still had ink drawings on his face and when his hat fell off as they leaped over the couch, one could see that half of his skin and hair was a bright, shocking pink.

"Ah, what the hell," Harry muttered to himself. "She deserves a bit of fun."

Dodging around Draco and Hermione, Harry headed over to the guestroom to get a fresh change of clothes, intent upon hitting the showers.

* * *

Harry returned from the showers just before dinnertime to find small groups of people standing a few steps up on each dormitory staircase, watching with amusement as Hermione continued to chase Draco around. The only difference in the scene was that Draco was no longer screaming, saving his breath for running, and most of the furniture and tables had been knocked over.

"Hey, Harry!" called Fred, who was standing on the boys' dormitory staircase with George, both of them now clean of cheese and watching with amusement. Ron was right next to them; apparently the twins had decided they just couldn't stay away from Hogwarts for long in the middle of a prank war. "Want to place a bet?" Fred asked.

"So far, odds are in favor of Hermione, four to one," George added.

Harry rolled his eyes and pulled out his wand.

* * *

Eight spells, a lot of disappointed Gryffindors and two showers later, Draco and Hermione were preparing for Quidditch practice, neither of them speaking much, Draco with a large bandage covering the bruise Hermione's jaws had inflicted upon his arm, just above the invisible chain cuff, and a tight black toboggan covering most of the color stains in his hair.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come, Hermione?" Harry asked for the sixth time as she tied a scarf around her neck and pulled on one of her hand-knit caps.

"Dumbledore said a teacher would be there," Hermione told him wearily. "Just… focus on your exams."

Harry didn't bother to point out the fact that studying without Hermione was pretty much useless and let it go. He accompanied her and Draco down to the kitchens for a quick bite to eat and then split up from her in the entrance hall, Harry heading back to Gryffindor Tower and Hermione and Draco leaving for the Quidditch pitch.

A foot of snow was covering the ground and the wind chilled them both to the bone. Hermione pulled her cloak tighter around herself, swallowing at the sight of the six hulking trolls who formed the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team. "Hey, Draco!" Crabbe called, smirking at Hermione. "Brought us something new for Bludger practice?"

"Unfortunately not," Draco growled, causing Hermione to stare at him in surprise. He ignored her. "The little Mudblood here has to share a broom with me. And as I've told you lot a thousand times, I'd better not see one single Bludger aimed at me, understand?"

"Granger has to share your broom?" a Slytherin sixth-year blurted out. "Don't you want to cancel practice, then?"

"No, I don't want to cancel practice," Draco growled, "because unfortunately you people can't play Quidditch worth a damn."

"Which is usually the captain's fault," Hermione muttered.

"How would you know, you little—"

"Sorry I'm late," called a new voice, interrupting Draco, and Hermione let out a small groan; of all the teachers who could have been picked to oversee the practice, Dumbledore had picked Oliver. She supposed that, technically, he'd know the most about Quidditch after Hooch—or maybe even more than Hooch—but the last thing she needed to deal with right now was Oliver.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Draco snapped.

"Keeping an eye on your pathetic excuse for a Quidditch team," Oliver shot back. He turned to Hermione. "You okay?"

Hermione grinned at him weakly and nodded. At least she knew that if any of the Slytherins tried anything funny, Oliver would pull a Harry. Or maybe even a Ron.

Draco didn't miss the kind look Oliver was giving her or the little grins they shared. He snorted in disgust. "What is it with you and teachers, Granger?"

"What?" Oliver said, blinking and turning to look at him, startled.

"Will you stop with the whole Snape thing?" Hermione screamed, making everyone but Draco (who was quite used to her yelling by now) cringe back. "I am NOT shagging Snape! I'd think the fact that I just tried to chew off one of your major appendages would prove it!"

Everyone stared. Goyle scratched his head in confusion and a few of the smarter Slytherins frowned thoughtfully.

"Um," Oliver said, wondering exactly just what _that_ meant, "…which… major appendage… are we talking about here?"

"Oh, don't even TRY to play innocent!" Draco yelled, ignoring Oliver. "You're shagging Wood, you're shagging Snape, and you're—"

"I am NOT SHAGGING SNAPE!" Hermione screamed so loudly that her voice echoed around the grounds.

"HA! So you admit to shagging Wood, do you?"

"NO!"

Oliver fought off a grin.

"Don't bother denying it! Everyone knows now! Shagging any other teachers? Hagrid? Flitwick? Dumbledore? Is _that_ why you get such good grades? OW!" Hermione had grabbed Oliver's broom right from his hands and walloped Draco in the head with it.

"How sick can you be?" Hermione shouted. "You shut your mouth, or so help me, I'll kill you in your sleep!"

"Oh, right! I would've already tried to kill _you_ in _your_ sleep, but you never DO sleep, you're always shagging someone! Goody-two-shoes, my ass! AND YOU'RE TRYING TO SEDUCE ME! I KNOW IT!"

Oliver pinched the bridge of his nose, trying desperately not to laugh. They both looked like complete raving lunatics, and it didn't help that Draco (who wasn't as gifted with spells as Hermione and as such had been unable to erase the ink drawings by magic) had faded symbols and what looked like pale-pink, slowly fading dye all over his face. The Slytherin Quidditch team, who weren't exactly the brightest people in the school, watched with a mixture of amusement, shock, horror, and nervousness.

"I wouldn't seduce you if my life depended on it!"

"HA! You know you want me!"

Hermione raised Oliver's broom once again, but this time Draco was ready for her, blocking her blow with his Nimbus 2001. Before anyone could blink, the two of them were locked in a vicious sword—er, broom—fight, twigs and snow flying as they once again battled it out.

"HEY! HEY!" Oliver shouted, getting whacked four times before managing to shove the two of them apart. He seized his beloved broom back from Hermione. "Are you _crazy?_ This is a Firebolt 2 autographed by Shaun Lambdin! Do you have any idea what this is worth?" Hermione rolled her eyes and Oliver glanced around, singling out a nearby Slytherin. "Hey, you! With the crappy broom!" The Slytherin stepped forward reluctantly and Oliver snatched the broom away. "Here you go," he said, handing it to Hermione. "Perfectly good Cleansweep Nine."

Hermione gave him a dirty look, but was unable to resist smiling at him; typical boy, always obsessed with Quidditch. And speaking of Quidditch-obsessed boys…

Hermione tossed the broom aside and pulled her wand. Draco had drawn his own before she could get off a curse, however, and she paused. She'd already spent most of her day suffering because of misused magic, and she didn't really want to get Oliver in any more trouble; who knew what would happen to him if anyone found out how much he'd been covering for them for the past few days?

"Drop your wand," Hermione told Draco, "and—"

"OH!" Goyle said suddenly. "THAT'S what she meant by 'major appendage!' Did she _really_ try to chew yours off, Draco?" Something about his words seemed to make it click with the other Slytherins.

"You let her close enough to try?" Crabbe said in amazement.

"She's a Mudblood; are you mad?" Blaise Zabini exclaimed.

"You let her _live?"_ Theodore Nott said, gaping at Draco incredulously.

Hermione closed her eyes, absolutely mortified. Oh, god, _what_ was she going to say when THIS got back to Harry and Ginny? And RON?

Oliver couldn't help it; he burst out laughing. Somehow, that made it twice as bad in Hermione's mind. The Slytherins thought she'd tried to bite off Draco's "major appendage" (WHY had she used _that_ to describe his arm?) and for all she knew, Oliver did too. And he thought it was FUNNY.

"Can we play Quidditch now?" Hermione groaned.

"She bit my arm, you idiots," Draco growled. "My ARM."

There were a few moments of silence as the Slytherins mulled this over. "Uh… why would she bite your arm?" Crabbe asked.

"Yeah, that doesn't make any sense," Goyle said.

"Come on, Draco, we're your _friends,"_ Blaise said with a smirk. "You can tell US the truth."

Draco glared at Blaise so furiously that Blaise decided to examine something off in the distance with an innocent look on his face. "For. The. Last. Time," Draco spat, "it was my ARM!!"

Hermione sighed. "I want to go home."

"No one's stopping you," Draco snapped.

"YOU are stopping me, you horrible little prick!" Hermione screamed. "YOU! YOU YOU YOU!"

Draco grinned, knowing that no one else knew about the chain but Oliver, and therefore they would have no idea what she meant; the Slytherins would have no idea how Draco was preventing her from going home. "Ah… so you DO want me. Well, I'm sorry, Granger, but it's never gonna happen."

"Oh, shut up," Hermione snapped. "If I had a Galleon for every time you've checked me out in the past seven years, I could buy Hogwarts."

Draco's jaw dropped. Surely she hadn't ever actually caught him? Did he really do it that often? Of course not, and it wasn't like he'd really been doing it for seven years, he hadn't, just since that prank, since he'd noticed that she actually had a good body… well, okay, the Yule Ball had really done a lot too… but…

"Aha! Somebody looks guilty!" Hermione gloated.

Draco's panic changed instantly to rage. She'd tricked him, and in front of six of his mates—well, as close to mates as one could find in Slytherin, anyway. He could already hear Blaise and Theodore struggling to keep their laughter in.

Draco leaped forward, itching to wrap his hands around her throat until she turned an interesting shade of purple. He didn't get far, however; he literally ran into Oliver, who'd stepped in front of her, still chuckling slightly.

"As amusing as this truly is," Oliver said, trying to sound stern and failing, "I have things to do. Start your practice, or call it off, Malfoy."

Draco glared at Oliver, dying to say something but knowing better. _Wood might be a Gryffindor, a psycho, and a jerk who's shagging Granger,_ Draco reminded himself, _but he's still a teacher. One who's on Granger's side._

"Fine," Draco snapped, snatching the box containing the Quidditch balls from Blaise. "Everyone in the air!" he called, releasing the Snitch, the Quaffle, and one Bludger. "Standard drills!"

The other six members of the Slytherin team kicked off from the ground as best they could in the snow, and Draco turned to Hermione. After a long pause, Draco grudgingly held out his Nimbus 2001. Though he didn't want Hermione anywhere near him or his broom, he needed a bit of a good moment, and flying was one of the few things that made him happy. "Get on," he snapped.

Hermione stared at the broom, panic rising within her. She'd taken the required flying courses in her earlier years, but she'd never been very good at it, and had been terrified the whole time. The only other times she'd flown had been on Buckbeak and that thestral, and neither of those times had been too much fun for her. Flying courses and magical creatures were nothing like Quidditch, either. What was she going to do? She couldn't get on a broom with _Draco Malfoy!_

"GET ON!" Draco repeated.

"No!" she shrieked in a panic.

"Granger, we've been through this. Dumbledore—"

"Dumbledore makes mistakes! He's only human! I'm not getting on!"

"YES YOU ARE!" Draco shouted.

"What if I push you off? Huh? You ever think about that?"

"You're chained to me. You push me off, we both die."

Well, that wasn't comforting. And it hadn't worked, either. "But… but…"

She looked at Oliver, who knew she wasn't a fan of flying and gave her a sympathetic look.

"I'm here," he said softly. "I won't let anything happen to you."

Hermione took a deep breath. Of course Oliver wouldn't let her get hurt. She smiled weakly, relieved… but she forced herself not to take comfort in his presence. It was a moment between them, one she didn't want to have, not when her boyfriend was mad at her and Oliver was her professor and Malfoy was chained to her and life was unbelievably hellish.

Hermione suddenly felt a little foolish. Where was her Gryffindor courage? How could she be scared of a broom? She'd faced Voldemort, and Death Eaters, and three-headed dogs, and giants and centaurs and so on; surely she could handle a broom. It wasn't even invisible like thestrals were. She could do this. She could do this. She could… damn it, why _her?_

Reluctantly, moving about as fast as a person who was asked politely to sit in an electric chair, Hermione threw her leg over the broom.

"Move back," Draco snapped, and Hermione scooted as far away from the front of the broom as she could get without the tail's twigs poking her in the butt. Draco sat down in front of her, as far to the front as possible while still allowing him space to steer. "We have to kick off at the same time," Draco said sourly, "or this won't work. We're too heavy. On the count of three, kick. One… two… three!"

Draco pushed off with his legs as hard as he could; the front end of the broom jerked up maybe an inch but the rest stayed put, and Draco nearly jumped right off his broom. His grip on the broom was the only thing that kept him from slipping sideways and landing in the snow; he slammed back down onto the broom quite painfully and let out a loud scream.

Oliver burst out laughing. "Ah, the _other_ hazards of Quidditch," he gasped.

It took all of Draco's willpower not to perform the Killing Curse on them both right then and there. After a long while, he turned and glared at Hermione over his shoulder. "If. You. Do. That. Again," he growled through gritted teeth, "I WILL KILL YOU!"

Hermione swallowed, reminded for the first time that this was, in fact, the son of Voldemort's right hand man, and given enough prodding could probably be persuaded to do a lot of horrible things. "I don't wanna fly," she whined.

"Well, you're gonna, with or without a broom," he snarled, and turned back around. "Now, on the count of three, KICK OFF!"

This time, Hermione obeyed, but it was such a weak kick that they didn't get very far (and Draco's kick-off was decidedly less powerful, also). They struggled to get height, Oliver following them easily, still trying to reign in his laughter.

Hermione gripped the broom handle tightly, slowly trying to relax. They were holding still, more or less, as Draco scanned the stadium for the Snitch. She could handle holding still. Yes, holding still was fine.

For a few moments, everything was okay. Oliver flew over to the Slytherin Keeper, badgering him for his sloppy performance and yelling things like "You idiot, stay in the middle! Come on, he's trying to fake you out! If you can let these pathetic excuses for Chasers passed you, you need to go—"

"Ah-ha!" Draco yelled, drowning Oliver out. He'd seen the Snitch at last; without thinking, he aimed the broom in the right direction and they shot forward.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Of course, he'd forgotten Hermione.

In a panic, Hermione flung her arms around Draco's waist, clinging for dear life to the only thing she could. Startled and then outraged, Draco let go of the broom in an attempt to dislodge her fingers and slowly they started to sink.

"LET GO!"

"We're gonna diiiiiie!"

"GET OFF ME!"

"HELP! HELP!"

"Draco, look out!"

The single Bludger was zooming their way. Draco yelped and grabbed the broom handle, but Hermione saw the Bludger coming too and tried to lean back while still holding his waist tightly, and Draco was jerked slightly backwards. The top-of-the-line broom, which reacted to the slightest touch, flew back and up—so they missed the Bludger, but began to back-flip in mid-air.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Hermione screamed as the broom spun them over six times before Draco was able to right it. Draco let the broom hover and began to struggle with her fingers, but Hermione was now completely hysterical, screaming her head off and clinging to him like a barnacle to a shipwreck.

Oliver, who was by their side in an instant, spent about ten minutes talking to her soothingly before she realized he was even there. The moment she saw him, she flung her arms around his neck.

"Oh, god, he really _did_ try to kill me!" Hermione babbled. "Fly… kill… scary… let me on your broom!" She grabbed the back of Oliver's broom and started to pull her leg up to climb on… and then she caught sight of the ground, some fifty feet below.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

She flung her arms back around Draco, squeezing his chest so hard that he began to gag. A few of the Quidditch players stopped to watch the comical, confusing scene—Hermione Granger, clinging tightly to Draco, him apparently about to throw up and Oliver hovering next to them, looking pleading.

"Um… Blaise," said Crabbe, cocking his head to the side as he stared, "d'you think all that was true? About her liking Draco and Wood?"

"I'm starting to wonder," Blaise said. To him, it appeared that she was hugging Draco; he couldn't see her face or hear what any of them were saying, but Draco looked quite nauseous and Blaise wondered if Oliver was trying to convince her that she didn't really want Draco.

"While we're on the subject," called one of the Chasers, "why are Draco's hair and face kind of pink?"

"I'm more curious about those grayish peace signs on his face," said Theodore.

Back on Draco's broom, Hermione was finally starting to calm a little, thanks to a long pep talk from Oliver (who was quite good at such speeches, especially after several years as a Quidditch captain). She finally released Draco, quite shaky, and Draco started gulping air. She scooted back and grabbed the broom handle in front of her instead, her knuckles white from the tightness of her grip.

"Okay," she said, "I'm okay now."

"I'm right here with you, remember that, okay?" Oliver said. Hermione nodded… and Oliver's gaze immediately began to wander back to the Slytherin team, a wistful expression on his face at the thought of the game. The Keeper missed another save and Oliver rolled his eyes. "I'll be right back," he called absently.

Hermione stared after him in indignation. "Stupid Quidditch!" she growled.


	28. Quidditch Practice, Part 2

**Chapter Twenty-seven**

_Quidditch Practice, Part 2_

Harry sat in the guestroom, looking over his notes for his exams. Harry couldn't concentrate; studying was much less productive without Hermione there to keep him on track and help him, and he was quite worried about her out there on the pitch, supervised by a teacher or not.

He set his notes down, his eyes blurry. He had slept reasonably well the night before, but that didn't make up for two days of near sleeplessness. He hadn't exactly been the most well-rested person in the world over the past few years, but he'd been gradually getting more sleep since Voldemort's demise, and he'd started to forget what it was like to go days without a good night's rest.

Harry's head dropped to his chest and he fell into a light doze. Within a few moments, he was dreaming.

_A pleasant feeling filled him, a feminine hand trailing down his chest. His arms were around a girl, and from what he could tell, she was naked, or close to it; he could feel bare, soft skin beneath his fingers, but he kept his eyes closed. It was more fun that way._

_Harry's hand glided up the girl's back… and then his fingers collided with an arm, an arm that couldn't be hers; it was too large, too masculine, and in the wrong position to logically be attached to her shoulder. Harry's eyes snapped open, saw the bushy hair that could only belong to Hermione… and behind her was Draco. Harry could only see Draco's arm, face and part of his chest, but all were bare. He shot a horrified look at Hermione, who grinned back at him and pressed her lips against his softly; then she turned to Draco, lifting her head up towards his. Their mouths were soon close enough to kiss…_

Harry woke up screaming.

* * *

Hermione gripped the broom tightly, now mentally berating herself for her fear and for actually clinging to Draco Malfoy for comfort, and berating Oliver for being so into Quidditch that he'd completely forgotten his promise to keep by her side. He was still conversing with the Slytherin Keeper; apparently he missed Quidditch too much to care if he was affecting Gryffindor's chances at the Cup.

"Who came up with this dumb sport," Hermione muttered to herself. If Draco heard her, he didn't acknowledge her. She wondered if he'd forgotten her presence; Harry, Ron, Ginny, and several other people she knew were prone to doing that when it came to Quidditch.

The Snitch was proving hard to find, apparently. He occasionally moved around, going slowly, probably not wanting to have the crap hugged out of him again. She swore to herself that she would keep her cool the next time he put on a burst of speed, feeling more confident every time he slowly moved aimlessly to another location… and then he saw the Snitch again.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Hermione's thoughts flew right off the broom, along with her resolve to keep cool, and she flung her arms around Draco from behind again, hanging on as tightly as she could. Draco was torn between his determination to finally catch the Snitch and his determination to get her off of him; he kept one hand on the broom and tried to use the other to pry her arms away, but she would have none of it. The broom began to swerve dangerously, increasing Hermione's panic; the Nimbus 2001 was much faster than thestrals, hippogriffs or school brooms, even at half-speed, and the swerving was a lot like a car skidding out of control while going eighty miles an hour. Closing her eyes, Hermione screamed gibberish about Harry and Ron and going into the light and going home while Draco screamed gibberish about Mudbloods and murder and psycho girls and cheese.

A particularly jarring turn of the broom jolted Hermione's eyes open, and suddenly she stopped screaming; right in front of her was the tiny Golden Snitch. She'd never seen it up close before, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen anything half as interesting. It seemed to glisten, its golden form catching the light from the stadium's magical illumination, its silvery wings bringing angels to mind. Without thinking, Hermione sat up, releasing Draco and gingerly taking hold of the Snitch.

"It's so _beautiful,"_ Hermione breathed, wondering how her friends could go on and on about the "finer points of Quidditch" and never once mention how gorgeous the Snitch looked up close.

Draco, who was startled by Hermione's abrupt withdrawal, turned to see what she was doing—and felt his jaw drop at the sight of her sitting there, staring at the Snitch, which was held carefully between her thumb and forefinger. "Give me that!" he yelled, grabbing at it as best he could from his position.

"NO!" Hermione jerked her arm away from him, clutching the Snitch to her chest and looking like Sméagol coveting his Precious. Draco carefully turned and began to yank at her arm; Hermione used her free hand to smack at him and started yelling for Oliver, who was too far away to hear. The broom began to sink, Draco tugging harder at her wrist and Hermione slapping at him like crazy.

* * *

"So is it true Hermione has to share a bed with Malfoy?" asked one of Ginny's roommates, a girl that reminded Ginny of Parvati and Lavender. Ginny sighed inwardly. She had decided to catch up on her gossip and take a break from the Hermione-Draco insanity, and that meant hanging out with her roommates, some of her only other friends—well, close acquaintances, really. Hermione, Neville, Luna Lovegood and Colin Creevey were all closer to Ginny than her roommates, but Ginny did her best to get along well with them, in an effort to keep her dorm life from becoming a living hell.

"No, it's not true," Ginny said, shaking her head at the strange sort of things people speculated on. She'd been hoping to hear about what was going on in the rest of the school—hear who was mad at who (that was always useful to know in a prank war) and stuff like that—but her roommates were far more interested in hearing about Hermione, Draco, Harry, and Ron. She knew from experience that they wouldn't quit for a good long while; people often saw Ginny's ties to Harry, Ron and Hermione as a good way to get dirt on the three most famous people in Hogwarts, and Ginny had become accustomed to staving off rumors about her brother and his two best friends.

"Orla Quirke said they have to share a bed," another of Ginny's roommates said doubtfully.

"Orla Quirke is a Ravenclaw fourth-year," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "She's never been in Gryffindor Tower, let alone in Hermione's room. I have. They have separate beds."

Her roommates all looked disappointed and turned to another topic. "Is it true that Hermione dumped Ron for Harry?" someone asked.

Ginny fought off a groan. Why did people always start questions about rumors with "is it true?" It was rare that anyone would believe the truth anyway. "No, she didn't," Ginny told her. "Hermione and Harry are just friends."

"What's up with her having a tattoo?"

"I don't know," Ginny said wearily, "I—"

"AH HA!"

Ginny spun around at the yell, drawing her wand on reflex (like Harry, Ron and Hermione, she was still prone to jumpiness after the war with Voldemort). She lowered her wand, however, at the sight of Harry rushing towards her, his hair messier than usual, his glasses slightly askew and his face flushed and sweaty.

"Found you!" he gasped. "FINALLY!"

"Harry, what—HEY!"

Harry seized her arm and bodily dragged her down the hall away from her roommates. "No time, tell you later," he said. "Must hurry, must hurry—"

Ginny spluttered at his odd behavior, waving good-bye to her surprised roommates, who had already started whispering, no doubt starting a new rumor already. "Harry, what is going _on?"_ she demanded as soon as they were out of earshot. "Is it Hermione? Did Malfoy do something? Where are we going?"

"Library," Harry panted. "Ron won't talk to me, Hermione's at the Quidditch pitch, I need someone to help me research."

"Research WHAT?" Ginny asked, but Harry didn't answer. He pulled her all the way to the library and through the doors, then straight to the section on psychic abilities and psychometry; seven years of being friends with Hermione had forced him to memorize the library's layout. "Harry, I'll help you look up whatever you're searching for, but I need to know what's going on," Ginny told him.

"I need a spell to block psychic visions," Harry said. During his mad dash through the school to find Ginny, he'd run through all the possibilities, and remembered with horror that Snape had said something about psychic visions being a side effect of the Cheese Spirit's bite. _"Ignore any strange dreams for the next week or so,"_ he'd said, but Harry didn't want to ignore them. He wanted to _stop_ them, and somehow he doubted that Occlumency would work; it blocked psychic attacks, not freaky dreams induced by dairy demons. He presumed this was some sort of psychic vision, but he really didn't give a damn; he just wanted to make the visions cease and then make sure they didn't come true. Of course they wouldn't come true, that wouldn't happen, not ever, that was ridiculous… him and Hermione and MALFOY together… EW! Of course not…

"You had a vision?" Ginny gasped. Harry didn't have those; he'd had a connection to Voldemort, but he'd never actually had a vision, he'd just sort of read Voldemort's mind.

"Yes," Harry said shortly. "And I'm never having one again." He dropped the book he was looking at and grabbed her by the upper arms, staring into her eyes with a hunted look. "You _have_ to help me, Ginny. We're friends. We've saved each other's lives. _We play Quidditch together._ You have to help me, please, help me make it stop, if you care about me at all—"

"Harry, calm down, before the urge to run screaming away from you gets any stronger. I'll help you, don't worry." Harry breathed a sigh of relief and a mischievous grin came over Ginny's features. "But first…"

"Yeah?" Harry said.

"Well," Ginny said innocently, "I'll need to know what the visions are _about."_

* * *

"If you stay over to the right, then you won't have a CHANCE if they move in from the left. If you stay to the center, though, you're going to be able to react to both fake-outs and actual shots and force the Chasers to go left or right and—"

"Hey, look at Draco!" Crabbe called, interrupting Oliver's rant to the Slytherin Keeper.

"Shit!" Oliver swore, turning to look and cursing himself for forgetting Hermione. It took him a second to find them; they weren't on eye-level, but rather twenty feet off the ground and still going lower, having a bizarre slapping fight, which they somehow managed while sitting one in front of the other on a four-foot-long piece of wood.

Oliver groaned and started to make his way over to them… then glanced at the Quidditch players. God, he missed Quidditch… and Hermione was fine, she could handle Malfoy… they weren't even far enough of the ground to break anything now… she'd be all right…

Oliver turned back to the Keeper. "As I was saying…"

* * *

Hermione wondered briefly what would happen if she shoved Draco off the broom. He'd probably scream like a girl again, so that would be a good thing… but then his abrupt departure would probably cause the broom to shoot back up, and she didn't want to even begin to try to steer a top-notch broom… and oh, yeah, she was tied to his wrist, so that might cause a problem, not unlike when Harry had blown up Draco's head…

"GIVE IT TO ME!"

"NO! I caught it!"

"GIVE IT HERE!"

Hermione glared at him furiously. One of his hands was latched onto her forearm, pulling as hard as he could without leaning back (which was too dangerous) for leverage, while the other hand tried to fend off her repeated attacks. He glowered back, a mixture of rage, frustration and determination on his still slightly-discolored face (which was slowly changing from pink to the hue of white cheese). Something about his expression, his glare and the tilt of his head at a funny angle from turning around to face her, his usually well-groomed hair all messed up and whipping in the wind… somehow, it struck her as adorable.

_God,_ she thought, _I've GOT to get this chain off…_

Draco was having similar thoughts. She was so infuriating, always had been, but he couldn't deny that she looked hot. She was especially pretty when she was angry—and as he made it a habit to piss her off, he'd noticed that several times over the years. If only she hadn't been some Muggle-born lackey of Harry's, maybe…

_Don't think like that!_ Draco yelled at himself. He groaned mentally. _Note to self: look up the success rate in chewing off your own arm and having it reattached…_

Hermione glanced around for some means of escape; she wasn't sure how long she could fend him off without shoving him off the broom, and she wasn't too happy about the direction her thoughts were taking. Then she noticed with a start that the broom was only maybe two meters off the ground. She could jump that, no problem…

Hermione would later realize how stupid it was, but she wasn't exactly thinking straight. She'd had a rough day—a rough WEEK, really—and the spurts of adrenaline entering and leaving her system were taking their toll. She was also VERY eager to get back on the ground. Whatever her reason—or lack of it—she jumped off the broom.

…And naturally, Draco was forced to come with her.

* * *

Oliver heard a loud scream and whipped around to look at where he'd last seen Draco and Hermione. Draco was flat on his stomach, broom clutched in one hand, and Hermione was standing nearby nervously, clutching the Snitch to her chest. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened.

Oliver burst out laughing.

* * *

"Come _on,_ Harry! Just a hint?"

"No."

"Are we all going to die or something?"

"No. Not this time, anyway."

"…Could you tell me instead why Snape's exams for today were rescheduled and why he's going to be holding class in a different room for the next few days?"

"…No."

"Was the vision about Hermione or something?"

"I. Am. Not. Telling."

"HA! So it was!"

"NO!"

"I've got you now, Potter. You didn't say 'no,' you said, 'I'm not telling,' and then you denied it too quickly! What's the vision about? Her and Ron? Why would that… oh, god, it was something about her and Malfoy, wasn't it?"

_"NO!"_

"Ha! It was! What about her and Malfoy has you so spooked, eh, Harry? Does she kill him?"

"Ginny…"

"No, eh? She doesn't kill him."

"Hey, I didn't say she doesn't—"

"You didn't say 'no,' because you think I think no means yes!"

"Your logic is a little off, you know—"

"So, if she doesn't kill him, then what… oh, my god. Surely it wasn't… was… was it THAT sort of vision?"

"Gin…"

"Oh, GOD! It was, wasn't it?! Oh, she's gonna freak when I—"

"You tell her and I'll kill you! I did NOT have a vision about what you're thinking—"

"Oh, yeah? How do you know what am I thinking, then?"

"…"

"If only you could see how hard you're blushing…"

"Oh, shut up."

* * *

Draco just had time to let go of her and grab the broom handle to prevent the broom from getting blown away as he was yanked sideways and down. He at first marveled at her abrupt decision to jump off the broom, thinking something along the lines of _She must REALLY hate flying…_ and then he was screaming, mentally cursing Hermione as he fell. Hermione landed in a shaky crouch and quickly stood, leaping out of his way as he landed hard face-down, his landing cushioned only slightly by the snow.

Hermione's first instinct was to run, because a) Draco wanted the Snitch and b) Draco would not be happy once he remembered how to move. However, his fall had reminded her that she couldn't go anywhere without him being a few feet behind. So she stayed put, as far from his still form as she could, tensed to run and vaguely wondering just why he wasn't moving.

Draco didn't have the energy to get up. For one thing, he'd just had a very trying day; for another, he'd been injured quite a lot in the past few hours—Hermione crashing into him in the potions classroom, the antics of the Cheese Spirit, the Hermione-inflicted bite on his arm, bumping into various things in the Gryffindor common room, the unsuccessful kick-off, Hermione whacking him for a good fifteen minutes as they struggled over the Snitch, and now a ten-foot fall from broom to snow. _Why me?_ he whined to himself, feeling his body ache and a new rush of hatred for Hermione. This was all her fault, somehow, he was sure of it—everything was her fault. It was her fault his skin kept turning colors, it was her fault he'd spent weeks with people saying "Nice underwear!" to him in the hallways, it was her fault his favorite teacher had betrayed him, and it had to be her fault that he was chained to her, bruised in places he didn't know he had, sharing a room with her and Harry, his fellow Slytherins now convinced that she'd tried to bite off his "major appendage" and wondering if she and Draco secretly liked each other, and his seventh year almost completely ruined. It was _all her fault._

Hermione watched him warily, waiting for him to spring up at any moment and wondering if she'd seriously injured or even killed him. "Malfoy?" she said finally, edging a little closer cautiously. "Are you okay?" He didn't move, and she tentatively stepped up to him and nudged him in the side with her foot.

Draco felt her kick him and suddenly the rage rushed to the surface like shrapnel exploding from a landmine. "I'm gonna KILL YOU!" he roared, jumping to his feet so fast that he might have been yanked up by the hand of some god.

Hermione yelped and fell backward, her arms flailing as she hit the ground, an image of Draco burned into her mind's eye as he rose from the snow like some angry boogeyman, like a drunken horror movie producer's idea of a yeti, with snow and water covering him and his Nimbus 2001 held in his hands like a sword. As soon as she hit the ground she rolled back to her feet and took off, still clutching the Snitch to her, terrified of what might happen should Draco catch her. She headed for the edge of the pitch, intent upon making a beeline for the castle where a teacher who wasn't a Quidditch freak could help her.

Hermione shifted the Snitch to her left hand, flicking her right wrist to bring her wand shooting from the specialized arm cuff she'd bought during the start of the prank war. Forty feet from the exit… thirty… twenty… and then suddenly she went flying; Draco had leaped forward and grabbed her around the knees. She spun as she fell and landed on her back, Draco picking himself up and jumping on top of her. Draco dug his knees into the snow, kneeling over her, his hands reaching for her neck. Hermione raised her wand, pressing it to his throat. Draco stopped, glaring down at her, both of their eyes flashing warnings and loathing.

At last, Draco dropped his hands and sat back on her hips, still glaring but obviously reluctantly admitting a draw. Hermione lowered the wand slightly, but knew better than to let her guard down. They took to staring at each other, both breathing heavily… and suddenly the tension became a completely different type. She saw something flicker in his eyes, and his gaze became distance, pensive, almost wistful. His head tilted to the side and his eyes moved lower… was he looking at her mouth? Of course not. Probably not. No. No way. Just… at her chin or something. For no… apparent… reason.

A surge of confused, panicked emotions coursed through her; was he thinking about kissing her? Why the hell was he thinking about that? Surely he wasn't. Six of his friends were in the air above them, along with an ex-Gryffindor teacher… who was probably lovingly caressing the Gryffindor goal hoops and chattering absently with the Slytherins about memories of his glory days, come to think of it.

Hermione didn't know what to do, what to say; Draco was looking back into her eyes now, still angry, but she could tell he was thinking about something else now, too. She was suddenly terrified that he would kiss her, terrified and excited, horrified and anxious and damn it why wouldn't he get off of her?

Draco started leaning down towards her, so slowly that it took her a second to realize he was moving, his eyes looking at her lips and then back up to meet her gaze as though daring her to stop him. She didn't move, scared stiff, part of her telling him to hurry up and do it and the other part running over a list of curses she could use if he tried. Draco closed his eyes, but Hermione kept hers open, certain this had to all be a trick, of course it was a trick, he wasn't going to kiss her, what would she do if he kissed her?

Just when Hermione had made up her mind to close her eyes, see what happened, and then curse him into oblivion regardless of what he did, Draco went flying off of her, landing about three feet away in the snow, and Hermione looked up to see a red-faced Harry standing above her. Her panic increased; Harry had seen Draco about to kiss her! He was going to kill Draco—well, that didn't sound too bad, not really—and then he was going to demand to know what she was doing, not trying to stop Draco…

No. No, Harry hadn't even noticed the almost-sort-of-possibly-would-have-been-a-kiss; he barely gave Draco a second glance before dropping to his knees beside Hermione. He looked nervous and jumpy; Hermione wondered briefly if there was something wrong, something about the Order or the Death Eaters, but she couldn't seem to start her brain going in any direction that didn't include Draco and the almost-sort-of-possibly-would-have-been-a-kiss.

"Hermione! You've got to help me! I need you to help me research psychic vision blocking, I had a dream like Snape said I might, and I don't know what to do! Snape said to ignore it but no, oh, no, I can't IGNORE that, I have to KILL that, it's _got_ to go away; we have to find a way! I can't find it and Ginny won't help me look because I won't tell her what my vision was about and she won't accept that she does NOT want to know, and I don't think Occlumency will work because that's for when people try to attack your mind and no one's trying to attack it, it's all about cheese, damn it, why cheese, I hate cheese, you have to help me!"

Hermione blinked, Harry's rant penetrating the haze of confusion and emotion that had settled over her since Draco's tackle maneuver. Research. Yes, research, books, the library. Places where almost-sort-of-possibly-would-have-been-kisses did not exist. Normal stuff. Yes, normal stuff like books and… psychic visionary dreams that led to a new hatred of cheese… yeah, normalcy.

Hermione sat up. The other six Quidditch players were landing near Draco, and Oliver was walking towards her slowly, having trouble moving due to how hard he was laughing, leaning on his Firebolt 2 like an old man with a cane. Hermione took a deep breath and looked over at Draco.

"You okay, Draco?" Goyle asked, the Bludger held tightly under one of his massive arms.

Draco groaned, his eyes not quite focusing. "Practice is over now," he said, closing his eyes, looking quite disappointed.

Hermione smiled in satisfaction. She didn't know what that almost-sort-of-possibly-would-have-been-a-kiss had meant, but she did now that whatever happened, Draco was still her least favorite student at Hogwarts, and nothing was going to change that.

She turned to Harry and held out her left hand, which was still tightly holding the tiny golden ball. "Guess what, Harry," she said, grinning her head off. She opened her hand a little to show him. "I caught the Snitch!"


	29. Feliz Navidad

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

_Feliz Navidad_

Madam Pince, who had been informed of the chain binding Draco to Hermione and now knew just why they'd been researching love potions and curses last Friday, didn't object to the presence of Harry, Hermione and Draco, who chose a table at the far back and sat down with large stacks of books in front of them. Draco stared blankly at the cover of a book that might contain something on breaking the chain, barely listening to Harry and Hermione's conversation.

Draco realized now what was happening: He had gone mad. Completely, utterly insane. No sane person tried to kiss Granger. Wood, Snape, and Weasley were all proof of that. Draco had lost it. He wasn't sure when, but he was pretty sure it was right about the time he'd started fanatically planning that first prank, all those months ago… carefully brewing the potions, carefully making sure Crabbe and Goyle went nowhere near the potions, running over and over the plan with Pansy and Crabbe and Goyle. Perhaps that had done it; the entire prank now seemed like a damned fool thing to do. Even though she tried to avoid getting into trouble, he'd seen first-hand what Granger could do when she snapped, and Snape… why had he chosen Snape? Yes, Snape was the only teacher who would horrify her completely… but he was also a former Death Eater, for crying out loud. And it appeared that not only had he driven the two of them to work together, but he'd destroyed Snape completely.

"So Ginny wouldn't help you?"

"She said she wouldn't do it if I wouldn't tell her what the visions were about, yeah."

"Harry, that's a perfectly reasonable request—"

"No, no it isn't. You don't understand—"

Draco couldn't think. He wasn't sure what was up with Granger, but he knew that chewing off his own arm was sounding more and more appealing by the moment. Why had he almost kissed her? _WHY?_

"How are we supposed to stop the visions if we don't know anything about them?"

"You don't WANT to know anything about them, Hermione!"

"Harry… are you sure stopping them is such a good idea?"

"Excuse me? Miss Practice-Occlumency-or-I'll-Never-Let-You-Hear-the-End-of-It _wants_ me to have visions now?"

_"Visions,_ Harry, not dreams fed into your brain straight from Voldemort!"

Draco didn't even bother to flinch at the sound of the Dark Lord's name; he was too lost in thought. _How_ could he have even _thought_ about kissing her? She was a Mudblood, and more importantly, she was Potter's friend!

"Harry, I don't know why you don't want to tell me, but you have to tell me _something—"_

Even more importantly, why was he disappointed that he hadn't gotten to follow through with it?

"Fine. It was about you, me, and Malfoy, and it was the most horrifying thing I've seen since… since… ever!"

"Wait—what?" Draco said, tuning into the conversation fully. "You had a vision about me?"

"What _else_ would make me want it out of my head?" Harry snarled.

"Harry," Hermione said uncomfortably, "did you see us… die?"

"No," Harry said shortly.

"Then I don't understand why you're so upset! You, me, and Malfoy… were we tortured?" Harry shook his head. "Er… seeing someone else get tortured?" Again, he shook his head. "Did… did anyone die?" Head shake. "Were we fighting?" She sighed in exasperation. "Well, then, what, exactly, could be so—"

"OH MY GOD!"

Harry and Hermione jumped and turned to look at Draco, who was staring blankly ahead, looking terrified. "What's with you?" Harry snapped, but Draco didn't reply.

Draco's eyes refused to close; the library was replaced with a room he didn't recognize, a room that looked more like a bedroom than anything else. He was staring at himself, and Hermione, as though seeing it through a crystal ball. He was kissing her, quite thoroughly from the looks of it, and she was… smacking him upside the head…

Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, it vanished. Draco returned to reality with a jolt that made him feel like he'd just been thrown off the astronomy tower. He stared numbly into space, so dazed that it took him a second to realize he was looking at Harry.

"You saw it too," Harry said shakily.

Draco blinked and came back to earth. "Oh, GOD. THAT'S what you saw?" Harry nodded. Draco stared in horror. One of them seeing it, that was one thing. Draco could explain that as a delusion brought on by various injuries and cheese spirits; hell, he'd just shown that he was prone to recent lapses in mental health by that display out on the pitch. But if Harry had seen it too…

_It can't be real,_ he thought desperately. _It just CAN'T. And even if it is, I don't care, I'll never kiss Granger, never…_

Draco lunged across the table, causing both Harry and Hermione to jump and try to scramble back, but he merely seized two stacks of books and pulled them closer. "Hurry," he growled at them. "I want this _out of my head."_

* * *

McGonagall sighed as she scrawled an E across the top of the last written exam. Now, once Draco and Hermione completed their written exam after dinner the following day, she would have all of the Slytherins' and Hufflepuffs' exams completed until the practical on Wednesday.

She stood up, stretching the muscles in her back, which were aching from too many hours spent hunched over her desk. The days' tests were graded, the majority of the Gryffindors were behaving for the moment, and now she could put on her slippers and settle down to a nice—

"You better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout, I'm telling you why," sang a very loud, male voice, which was horribly off-key.

_Who on earth is THAT?_ she wondered. The singer sounded older than most of the students, and familiar—and like he hadn't sung a thing in decades. Frowning, she headed for her office door—but it sprang open before she could reach it.

Severus Snape waltzed—not walked, _waltzed_—through the door, wearing a ridiculous Christmas sweater, clutching a bottle of fine wine, and smelling faintly of rotten cheese.

"Santa Claus is coming to town! Santa Claus is coming to town! Santa Claus is coming to town!" Snape sang loudly.

McGonagall stared in pure disbelief. She had never seen anything quite so disturbing in her life; it was like watching Santa sell drugs.

Snape danced towards her, shimmying around the office as he came. "He's making a list, checking it twice, gonna find out who's naughty or nice. Santa Claus is coming to town! Santa Claus is coming to town! Santa Claus is coming to town!"

McGonagall continued to stare as Snape danced to her side and threw his arm around her shoulders, wondering if he was drunk. He had two sides when drunk—depressed and sarcastic amused, both of which were radically different from happy and singing. Besides which, the bottle of wine was unopened, and all she could smell was cheese.

"Come on; sing it with me, Minerva! SANTA CLAUS IS—"

"SING ONE MORE LINE AND I'LL KILL YOU SLOWLY!" McGonagall shouted. Snape stopped, startled. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she stepped out from under his arms and glared up at him with an expression that was known to make first years wet themselves.

"I've had it, Severus," she growled. "I can't take this anymore. You're going to tell me exactly what the hell happened to you or I'll beat you until you remember that you. Are. An. Evil. Slytherin. PRAT!"

Snape blinked and stared at her, then shrugged and opened the wine. "Sure, Minerva," he said. "I'll tell you everything. But come, it's Christmastime! Yule is here at last! Let's drink to Christmas, eh?"

McGonagall sighed and eyed the bottle longingly. "Oh, why not," she grumbled. "I could use a drink."

* * *

"That was so great," Fred said for the fortieth time. "Him screaming like a little girl, I mean."

"Ten Galleons says Hermione did that to his arm," George said. "Looked like she tried to bite him; did you see the marks through that big hole in his sleeve?"

"Hermione trying to bite off Malfoy's arm," Fred said with relish. "Oh, I wish I'd seen that… don't you, Ron?"

Ron made a noncommittal noise in his throat. Even though seeing Malfoy on the run had been quite amusing, it had also been rather depressing. It bothered him that he and Hermione were fighting, _really_ fighting, not just having one of their spats (which occurred several times a day, but never resulted in either staying mad for more than a few hours). It bothered him that she'd kept things from him. Most of all, it bothered him that he wasn't there for her.

When they had both first arrived at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, they'd both been so stressed out that they'd fought constantly; the only times they weren't fighting were when one of them had stormed off and ignored the other for hours on end. Eventually, about three weeks after staying together at Headquarters, they'd both just snapped. Ron had started screaming about how he was always left out, always the third wheel, and while she tried to apologize at first, he wouldn't calm down, and soon she'd started screaming back, about how Ron and Harry weren't there for her, not the way she was for them. He'd denied it and she'd thrown up every single instance in his face—Viktor, the fights in their third year about Scabbers and the Firebolt, and on and on, even some moments he could barely remember. For the first time, he'd realized how many times he'd really hurt her over the years, and how many times he'd taken her support for granted, and how many times he'd let her down by not helping her deal with her own problems. Hermione's problems had been her own, while Ron's and Harry's had always been Hermione's. She was in tears by the time she finally finished screaming.

Ron had stopped her when she'd tried to storm off, and told her how sorry he was, and how he never knew, and promised to be there for her in the future. Ever since, he had done his best to be there for her, and he always felt horrible when he realized he'd failed, no matter how big or small the failure was. Now, she was chained to Malfoy—few things required more support than THAT—and here he was, hanging out with his brothers instead, letting her deal with her problems alone. It wasn't that he didn't feel he had a right to be angry; it was just that he felt bad about neglecting his duties as a boyfriend—and more importantly, as a friend.

"What's up with you?" Fred asked, interrupting Ron's thoughts. "You look like Pig died or something."

Ron glared at him. "Or was turned into a canary the size of the library, perhaps?"

"Right," Fred said, forcing his face into a properly ashamed expression. "Sorry."

"Hey, listen!" George said, holding up his hand.

From down the hall, they could hear Harry's voice, sounding agitated and jumpy. "I'm NOT telling you, Gin," he said.

"Let it die, Gin," came Hermione's voice.

"Wonderful!" Fred exclaimed. "We can ask them how that chase thing got started!"

Ron panicked. If there was one thing he couldn't handle right now, it was facing Hermione.

Ron seized the backs of Fred and George's robes and began to haul them towards the nearest secret passage.

* * *

Oliver walked down the hall with a spring in his step. He always felt great after flying—and this time had been absolutely hysterical.

From what he'd seen of Harry, Ron, and Hermione over the past two days, Ron and Hermione were fighting. Oliver felt bad for her, but he couldn't help feeling hopeful, too. Add that to her astonishingly funny antics with Malfoy at Quidditch practice, and it was a wonder that he didn't just go zooming down the hallway on his Firebolt 2 like a little kid. It was the best evening he'd had in a long time, no matter how horrifying his morning with Ron had been—and even then, it was good to know that Ron was no longer going to be out for Oliver's blood, even if the scene had been embarrassing.

Vaguely recalling that he was supposed to go to McGonagall and tell her when the practice was over and relate how it had gone, he detoured away from the path leading to his quarters and headed instead for her private office. He could hear her talking to Snape as he approached; they were conversing in a loud, informal way that he could hear even with the door closed. Something seemed off about their voices, but Oliver didn't realize what it was at first.

"So they're going to be experiencing visions and spouting prophecies?" McGonagall was saying, sounding amused.

"Oh, that's not the worst part," Snape replied, his voice sounding very odd indeed. "See, if the Cheese Spirit bites you, you become plagued with dreams about whoever you were visualizing while it was being conjured."

"Hang on a second," McGonagall groaned. "I can't handle big words right now, let me think—"

"When I did the spell," Snape clarified, "I'd been thinking of Evans. So for about a week, I dreamed of her every time I slept and thought of little else."

McGonagall laughed, much more loudly and raucously than she usually did. "So who did Malfoy visualize?"

"He said he wasn't thinking of anyone," Snape replied. "And Potter supposedly wasn't, either."

"But if they had, they'd be dreaming about that person? And thinking about them?"

"Yes. In a very intimate way." Snape laughed, which made Oliver shudder; laughter was just too FOREIGN coming from Snape. "I hope Potter was thinking of someone unconsciously."

"Maybe he was," McGonagall said. "Malfoy, too. Or maybe Malfoy just didn't want to say who he was thinking about."

Something about the way she said the sentence—the words so garbled that it sounded more like "er mebbe mall foyust dinnut wanna sssay ooh ee us sinkin abut," hit home with Oliver. Like most guys in their early twenties, Oliver knew slurring when he heard it. As a professional athlete, he was a little _too_ acquainted with slurred speech, so he'd processed what they meant automatically and hadn't realized what he was really hearing.

He knocked on the door and opened it without waiting for an answer, his jaw dropping at the sight of Snape and McGonagall. Snape was sprawled in a chair, practically lying on it, an empty bottle of wine next to him and a nearly full wine glass in his hand. McGonagall was lying on her desk, her feet bare and swinging off the edge, her head pillowed by what looked like rolls of parchment covered in students' writing, one hand clutching a large bottle of wine. As Oliver watched in disbelief, McGonagall took a swig from the bottle without lifting her head and smiled at him. "You scared us silly," she slurred. "Thought you was a student."

Oliver blinked and turned to Snape, hoping for an explanation and getting only a feeble wave. "Hiya, Wood," Snape said, the bells on his Christmas sweater jingling.

"What are you wearing?" Oliver managed to say through his shock.

"Christmas spirit," Snape told him. "Not to be confused with cheese."

"…Christmas… spirit? Cheese?"

"Yessir, Christmas is a time for spirits! And happy. I'm a happy man now." He held his hand up to one side of his mouth, as though he didn't want McGonagall to hear. "I got me a girlfriend now," he added in a loud whisper.

Oliver shook his head, unable to cope with one more strange moment today. "Um… I'll just be going now," he mumbled.

"Oh, come on, Wood, don't be such a wuss," McGonagall said.

"Did you just call me a wuss?" Oliver said indignantly. He'd just been called a wuss by a drunken woman who was old enough to be his mother? What the hell was WRONG with his life lately?

"Stay and have a drink," she said. "Drink like a man, you… you… wussy boy."

"Wussy boy!" Snape repeated gleefully.

"I think I'll just come back when you're sober," Oliver said stiffly, glaring at them both.

"Wussy boy!" McGonagall fairly shouted. "Wussy boy wussy boy wussy boy!"

"Wussy boy! Wussy BOY!" Snape yelled, taking up the chant.

Oliver spluttered. "I am… you… stop… I… I AM NOT A WUSSY BOY!" he roared finally, making both of them jump. He stormed over to McGonagall, snatched her wine bottle, and took a large gulp from it. "There, you happy? I… hey, this is good," he said, holding it up to read the label.

"Finest wiiiiiiiine in the wizarding woooooooorld," Snape sang.

"Help yourself," McGonagall said to Oliver. She opened her desk and pulled out another bottle, which she opened with a tap of her wand. "We have plenty."

Oliver frowned. On one hand, this was really, really weird. On the other, his weird experiences seemed to be turning out pretty well today. And the wine was good.

"Why not?" he muttered, and took another swig.

* * *

Ginny had joined back up with Harry, Hermione and Draco on their way back from the library—and as they needed someone to help carry their library books (all fifty-two of them), they put up with her prattling as they headed back to Gryffindor Tower in exchange for hard labor. She'd learned from Hermione that Draco was having visions similar to Harry's, and that it had something to do with the rumors Ginny had been hearing about a cheese monster (naturally, the one rumor she had deemed automatically false was really TRUE, go figure) and an accident in Snape's classroom, but no one would tell her anything else, and it seemed Hermione knew little more than she did. Hermione wasn't interested in talking about the Quidditch Practice, either, but Ginny had decided that for now, she might as well focus on the visions.

"Come on, just a hint?" she pleaded, thoroughly amused by the two spooked boys.

"I'm NOT telling you, Gin," Harry said.

"Let it die, Gin," Hermione said wearily, struggling to keep up with Draco; he was power-walking as quickly as possible towards the common room, determined to get back to researching as fast as he could.

"Did he tell you?" Ginny asked Hermione accusingly.

"No," Hermione said shortly. "Which you're going to have to do eventually, Harry," she added sternly. "It could be instrumental. If I knew what the vision was about, I could narrow down the research—prophetic visions of death, for example, would probably be different from visions of what we're going to eat for lunch tomorrow. And it could be important, in some way you haven't—"

"It wasn't," Harry said shortly. "It was _not_ important. It's probably not even real. But it needs to go AWAY."

"It must have been major," Ginny said smugly. "Oh, well, I guess I'll just have to slip Malfoy here a truth potion and get it from him, since he's having them too now—"

Draco stopped in his tracks and whirled to face her, startling her. He stared at her seriously, his mouth set in a thin line. "Listen, Little Weasel," he said coldly, "and listen good. You. Do. NOT. Want. To. Know."

* * *

Oliver lay flat on his back between Snape's chair and McGonagall's desk, drunk off his ass, little red stains on either side of his mouth from where he'd missed with the wine. "So you guys do this a lot?" he asked.

"Sometimes," Snape said, holding his wine glass out towards McGonagall. "Fill 'er up, Minerva."

McGonagall mostly missed the glass; a lot of wine poured onto Oliver's chest and the carpet, but enough made it into the glass that Snape pulled his glass back after a few moments. McGonagall continued to pour; Oliver, who was used to this by now, tipped the bottle upright for her and she withdrew her arm.

Alcohol affected witches and wizards in slightly different ways than Muggles—the magic in their blood did funny things when exposed to mind-altering substances—but alcohol still did its job, magic or not. Snape, McGonagall and Oliver had been in the room for some time now, and Oliver was nearly as trashed as the other two. They'd been telling him all about "Dorwilaron," whatever that was—a cheese demon of some sort—and he was simply nodding and saying "Uh-huh" in the right moments, knowing that he'd just sort out the information later, when he was more sober.

"I'm bored," McGonagall said suddenly, and struggled to a sitting position. "Hey! I know! Let's go play Confuse, Terrorize, or Escape the Students!"

"How do you play?" Oliver asked, frowning.

"Well, we wander the building," Snape said, "and if we see a smart student, or a student who might talk, we run."

"Same goes for if we see Argus or Albus," McGonagall added.

"If we see a dumb student, or one we don't like, we do crazy things to confuse them," Snape continued.

"That's usually for the Slytherins, though," McGonagall said helpfully.

"If we see a cool student—one that no one would believe, or one we like who wouldn't be all 'guess what Snape and McGonagall did,' then we terrorize them!"

"I have more cool students than Severus, though," McGonagall said, giggling.

"Terrorize how?" Oliver said suspiciously, remembering a wild story of Angelina Johnson's back in his fourth year.

"You'll see," Snape and McGonagall said mischievously.

Oliver shrugged and sat up. "Can we take the wine?"

"Can't play Confuse, Terrorize, or Escape the Students without wine!" Snape said.

"Or something like it. Liquor's best," McGonagall agreed.

"Then I'm game," Oliver said cheerfully.

* * *

Ron, Fred and George watched from a secret passage hidden behind a tapestry as Harry, Hermione, Draco and Ginny started walking again. "Weird," Fred muttered.

"Could you imagine hanging around those two all day?" George said. "Harry and Hermione, I mean?"

"Imagine all the stuff you'd have to put up with," Fred said. "Psychic visions, fighting evil, the gods only know what else—" Ron gave Fred a look, and Fred cut himself off. "Right, sorry," he said. "Don't know how you do it, Ron."

"It takes practice," Ron said dryly, stepping out of the passage once he was sure Harry, Hermione, Draco and Ginny were gone. The twins followed Ron out.

"So… should we follow them, and eavesdrop?" George said eagerly. "Might be good research for the prank war."

Ron shook his head. Overhearing the conversation had made him feel a lot worse; not only was she chained to Malfoy, but she and Harry were struggling to solve some strange new mystery all alone. "I think I need to be alone for a while," he muttered.

"Um… okay," Fred said, startled. "We'll… go visit Oliver."

"Yeah," George said. "He told us he was going to be overseeing Slytherin practice; I bet he has loads of things to tell us…"

George trailed off; once again, they could hear voices… only these were infinitely more interesting that Harry and Hermione. Not to mention tuneful.

"Is that Snape again?" Fred wondered.

"Someone's with him," Ron said, "I can hear it."

"Who on earth would go wandering around singing with _Snape?"_ George asked.

"Maybe everyone's gone insane," Fred said brightly. "Harry and Malfoy are sharing visions, Ginny's wandering around with a load of library books, Ron's not being a proper Weasley and looking forward to practical jokes, and Snape is singing."

"The world has really gone insane, hasn't it?" George mused. Then he frowned. "Don't answer that."

The answer came, however; in fact, it walked right around the corner. Snape, McGonagall, and Oliver, all covered in wine stains and carrying bottles of the stuff, were stumbling down the corridor with their arms around each other's shoulders, singing… if one could call it that.

"Feliz Navidad!" they shouted together without much regard for unison as they staggered closer, their words slurring and making it difficult to figure out what they were saying. The three Weasleys vaguely recognized the words as Spanish as they continued.

Fred, George and Ron could do little more than stare as the three professors—one of which who had been their friend for years—stopped in front of them. Suddenly Snape lunged forward and seized Ron by the shoulders; Fred and George drew their wands on reflex but Ron was too startled to think of any such course of action.

Snape glared into Ron's eyes for a moment; there was a long pause as the twins tried to decide if cursing Snape would be a good thing or a horrible mistake at this point. Then Snape opened his mouth and screamed the English chorus of the "Feliz Navidad" song, so loudly everyone in the vicinity nearly wet themselves. When he was finished, he looked expectantly at Ron for a response.

Ron really couldn't think of much to say.

After a very, very long pause, Snape let go of Ron, shoving him backwards hard enough to make Ron stumble. Then he turned back to McGonagall and Oliver.

"I like this game!" Oliver exclaimed happily. McGonagall burst into giggles.

"Feliz Navidad," McGonagall gasped through her giggles, advancing on the three confused and panicky Weasleys. Fred and George hurried to get farther behind Ron, but McGonagall surged forward and threw her arm around Fred. "FELIZ NAVIDAD!"

"Feliz Navidad!" Oliver yelled, bunny-hopping around in circles.

"Feliz Navidad!" Snape said, swaying back and forth with a Luna-Lovegood-type expression.

"Feliz Navidad!" McGonagall told Fred, who stood frozen with a wide-eyed "please god help me" look on his face. "Feliz Navidad!"

"FELIZ NAVIDAA-HAAAD!" Oliver yelled in a jazz-singer imitation as he continued to hop in circles in the corridor.

Snape threw his arm around George's shoulder in much the same way as McGonagall and Fred and tried to get George to sway with him. Ron looked at all three teachers nervously and began to cautiously edge away down the corridor, trying to keep everyone in his sights. Oliver, McGonagall and Snape stopped just then and began to scream the English part like Snape had a moment before.

Simultaneously, the twins reached up to rub at their ears. "Um… please let go," George told Snape weakly.

Snape obliged, then made a little jump and landed with his arms and legs spread wide. "'Jingle Bell Rock,' everybody!" he called. The three of them sang the first four lines together, all of them doing strange little dance moves that might have been bad versions of The Twist.

"To the Ravenclaws!" McGonagall exclaimed, and the three of them began to form a conga line.

Snape sang the next line in such a creepily happy way that each Weasley privately thought they'd never been more afraid of anything before. Every few steps someone kicked, but usually the kicks weren't timed and everyone kicked at different moments.

They had now reached the end of the corridor. "Ravenclaw, here we come!" McGonagall exclaimed. She and Snape turned left, and Oliver turned right, all of them singing and kicking (and Oliver turning around and chasing after them a second later). Somewhere around the last line of the song, the three teacher's voices faded.

For quite some time, Fred, George and Ron simply stared after them in the numb sort of shock one feels after cheating death. Slowly, Fred and George blinked and turned to look at each other.

"Yep, the world has gone insane," George said, taking a shuddering breath.

Fred nodded and glanced in the direction the professors had gone, shaking his head in awe. "Wow," he whispered in awe. "Hogwarts really _has_ changed."


	30. The Great Lemon Drop Caper

**Chapter Twenty-nine**

_The Great Lemon Drop Caper_

"Ginny, if you ask one more question about it, I'm going to hex you," Hermione said wearily, leaning back in her chair. They were sitting in the guest room; Draco was working at one of the desks, speaking to them very little and only approaching them to swap books, and Hermione was at the other desk, Harry and Ginny on either side of her, sitting in armchairs they'd dragged over, Ginny doing her best to get information out of Harry and Harry doing his best to ignore her. They had been searching for hours, but had yet to find a single thing on blocking visions. Hermione was ready to give up; she had her written and practical exams for Arithmancy in the afternoon, and she, Harry, and Draco would have to take their written exams for Defense Against the Dark Arts in the morning and Transfiguration in the evening. She was fairly certain she could stand to lose the studying time—and there would be time in the morning, anyway—but the last thing she wanted to do was research. Her clothes were damp from all the rolling around in the snow she'd done, she was mourning the loss of the Snitch (Harry had taken it from her and thrown it back in the box just before dragging her back to the castle) and her mind kept drifting back to Draco. She kept second-guessing his intentions on the Quidditch pitch, and the fact that he was just as worried as Harry was about the visions was a lot more disturbing. There were plenty of things that would worry Harry, and even more that would worry Malfoy, but very few that would worry Harry _and_ Malfoy. They didn't exactly have a lot in common.

All Hermione really wanted to do was head for the prefects' bathroom, take a nice long bath, and read _Hogwarts: A History_ a little before getting a good night's rest, none of which she could actually do, not with Draco tied to her wrist, Harry flipping out, Ginny digging for gossip and Hermione's new unpleasant memories of the prefects' bathroom.

Ginny sighed. "Fine. You're not going to tell me anything. Not yet, anyway. But you're going to have to spill eventually—about Quidditch practice, about this cheese monster in Snape's cla—"

"SNAPE!" Draco yelled suddenly, making Harry drop his book and Hermione draw her wand in surprise; they'd almost forgotten Draco was there. Draco tossed the book he was reading over his shoulder and stood up. "Snape! Of course! Who would know more about these cheese visions than he would?"

"Now _there's_ an idea," Hermione said thoughtfully, too tired to care that it was Draco who came up with it. "We'll go ask him in the morning, Harry."

"Screw the morning!" Draco exclaimed. "I'm going now."

"It's after curfew," Hermione pointed out.

"Good point. I'll get the cloak," Harry said, nodding at her and practically running for his trunk.

"That's not what I meant," Hermione said in exasperation. "Let's just wait until tomorrow, Harry."

"And have another dream again tonight? No, thank you," Harry said, already digging through his trunk. "I'm going, Hermione, with or without you."

"Without, then," she told him irritably.

"With," Draco said firmly. "I'm not EVER seeing… what I saw… again. EVER."

"Only one of you needs to go if you're suffering from the same thing," Hermione snapped.

"Oh, and I'm supposed to trust _Potter_ to tell it to me straight? That's a laugh."

"Well, I'm not going, and you can't make me."

"Wanna bet?"

"Yes, I do," Hermione said coolly, fingering her wand.

"Ah, found it!" Harry, who hadn't been listening, stood up with the invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map in one hand and his Sneakoscope in the other. "We'd better take this—" he indicated the Sneakoscope— "just in case Snape tries to lie to us."

"Harry, it can wait until morning," Hermione insisted.

"Is that an invisibility cloak?" Draco demanded, his tone accusing and indignant. Harry nodded. "So THAT'S how you've been doing it all these years! You little cheater! _That's_ how you've been able to stay out of trouble!"

"Oh, shut up," Harry growled, rolling his eyes. "Hermione, we'll take the cloak and then no one will see us."

"You're desperate enough to let _Malfoy_ use your cloak?" Ginny said in shock. "Wow. The visions MUST be bad."

Harry shot her a dirty look and set the cloak and map on Hermione's bed, tucking the Sneakoscope into his pocket. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he said, tapping the map with his wand. "Snape… Snape… not in his office, not in his classroom… where is he?" Harry scanned the map for a few moments, furrowing his brow. Hermione prayed that Snape had gone to Hogsmeade or something, but no such luck; Harry jabbed his finger at the map triumphantly. "Ah, there he is! Snape's in McGonagall's office with her… and Wood, it looks like."

"What are they doing in there together?" Ginny asked, coming over to look.

"The map doesn't exactly say," Harry reminded her. He was surprised to learn during his sixth year that Ginny, whom the twins viewed as a real protégé, had known all about the map and its powers; the twins had told her all about it and its whereabouts. "But they're there, which is a good thing for us… it's not as far away as the dungeon. The trick will be to get Snape on his own; I, for one, don't want Wood and McGonagall knowing what's going on."

"I could cause a diversion," Ginny offered. "Say there's something wrong in Snape's classroom or something and get him to leave the office."

"That should do it, but don't use his classroom; you're supposed to be in Gryffindor Tower. Think up another excuse on the way," Harry said. He pointed at a spot on the map near McGonagall's "Oh, and try and get him to come over here, to this secret passage; we should be able to hide in there and wait for him. If he doesn't come within fifteen minutes, we'll head down to the Potions ro—"

"Will you _listen_ to yourself?" Draco interrupted. "You sound like a general planning a battle or something. This isn't sneaking out after curfew; it's guerrilla warfare. Can we just get moving?"

"We won't all fit under the cloak," Hermione pointed out.

"I'll walk outside it," Ginny said. "You'll have the map to watch for teachers, and if I get seen, I can always just say that I'm on my way to find Snape."

"I'm not going," Hermione repeated. "I'm going to take a shower and go to bed."

"You've had enough showers this weekend to last you for the rest of your life," Harry told her. "Hermione, we need you. You've got sway with Snape."

"Teaming up for a prank doesn't mean make me his bestest friend in the whole wide world," Hermione said testily.

Draco grabbed her arm. "You're coming with us."

Hermione wrapped her feet around the legs of her chair and held tightly to the seat. "No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"Make me."

Draco and Hermione entered into a fierce glaring contest for a few moments before Draco finally growled and seized the back of her chair. "Fine, I'll make you," he snapped. "Come on, Potter."

Harry stuffed the cloak and map into his robes; they'd learned that it was best to put on the cloak in the corridor when they had to sneak out so early in the night, so that they didn't bump into anyone in the common room on their way out and announce the fact that Harry owned an invisibility cloak. Gryffindors weren't prone to tattling, especially not on curfew violators, when chances were they'd get in trouble themselves for leaving the common room after curfew.

Hermione yelped as Draco jerked her chair, tilted it backwards, and began to drag her towards the door, chair and all. She tried to lift her hand from the seat to get out her wand, but the chair gave a slight lurch and she clutched the seat again, afraid of losing her balance. "Harry! Help!" she called.

"Sorry, Hermione," Harry said apologetically. "If Snape's gone back to his former self, you might be the only person who can get any answers out of him."

"Harry! How _could_ you! You're… you're COOPERATING with MALFOY!"

Harry froze, looking green. After a long pause, he started following her and Draco again. "Sorry, Hermione," he said, "but if all goes well, I'll NEVER… _cooperate…_ with Malfoy again."

Hermione gaped at him. There was something he wasn't telling her—probably something to do with the visions—but the fact that he would actually LET Draco Malfoy cart her around was far more astonishing.

"Never a dull moment," Ginny muttered as she followed Harry, Hermione and Draco to the door.

Draco pulled her out into the corridor, paused only momentarily for the door to open up, and then dragged her out into the common room. Dozens of students of all years were still awake, studying for the end-of-term tests; everyone looked up eagerly at the sound of the wall opening, then stared as Draco dragged a grumbling Hermione towards the door, walking backwards and keeping both hands on the chair back. "What?" he snapped at all the staring Gryffindors. No one said anything.

Draco kept walking towards the portrait hole… smack into another person. Draco turned to look over his shoulder… and promptly gulped and turned Hermione around so that she was between him and three glaring Weasleys.

Hermione swallowed hard as she stared up at Ron, who was flanked by Fred and George, all of them with their arms folded over their chests and furious expressions on their faces.

"R-Ron?" she said tentatively.

"I just want you to know, Hermione," Ron snarled, "that you can sic your lovesick little tagalongs and your favorite teacher on me all you want, because you don't scare me, and neither do McGonagall, Snape and Wood."

"Uh… wha?" Hermione said intelligently.

"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about," Ron growled.

"We don't appreciate Snape, McGonagall and Wood singing to us," George said coldly.

"Or grabbing our shoulders," Fred added.

"Or yelling 'Feliz Navidad' at us," Ron finished.

Hermione stared at them. _"What?"_

"If it's war you want, Hermione," Ron said, "it's war you'll get. You _and_ Harry."

"Ron, I don't—"

"Save it," Ron interrupted, and the three of them walked around Hermione and headed up the boys' dormitory staircase.

"That was… interesting," Ginny said, breaking the heavy silence in the common room.

"What were they _talking_ about?" Hermione wondered.

"Who cares? I've got larger problems," Draco said, shrugging and tilting Hermione's chair back again, nearly dumping her out of the chair as he turned her back around to drag her to the portrait hole.

"Harry, Ginny, someone should go talk to him—" Hermione began, but Harry cut her off.

"This is more important, Hermione," Harry said. As Draco kicked the portrait hole open, Harry stepped forward, grabbed the legs of Hermione's chair, and helped Draco lift Hermione into the corridor.

* * *

"Oh, that was _great,"_ McGonagall laughed. She, Snape and Oliver had returned to the office fairly quickly, after nearly running into Dumbledore on their way to the library. "Did you see the look on Weasley's face?"

"Grabbing his shoulders was a great touch," Oliver said, grinning. He was quite enjoying the fact that he'd been able to freak out the twins; he considered it as a sort of revenge for forcing him to tell them about Hermione, the tattoo, and the prank war. "We should do this again some time."

"I'm sure we will," McGonagall said. "We've been doing it for years."

"…Did you guys ever terrorize Angelina Johnson?" Oliver asked. "About seven years ago?"

"Oh, she was one of the best," Snape said with relish. "She looked ready to cry. Or perhaps wet herself."

"Even when you're happy, you're still a Slytherin," McGonagall remarked, shaking her head.

"You enjoyed it as much as me," Snape retorted.

"So?" McGonagall said, smiling mischievously.

Snape was about to reply when a knock on the door cut him off. The three of them jerked their heads up in alarm. "Who is it?" McGonagall called.

"It's Ginny Weasley, professor! There's been a bit of an accident—"

Snape, McGonagall and Oliver had already stopped listening, grinning from ear to ear the moment they heard Ginny's voice. After a quick whispered conversation, Oliver headed for the door.

* * *

They'd dragged Hermione, chair and all, to the first staircase leading downward before she'd finally given in—or, to be accurate, freaked out at the thought of Malfoy helping to carry her down a load of steps and started screaming. She grudgingly got off the chair, helped Harry hide it in a secret passage for the time being, and hid under the invisibility cloak with Harry and Draco.

"This isn't too weird," Hermione muttered as she, Harry and Draco inched down the corridor.

"You're telling me," Harry and Draco whispered together, then glared at each other in disgust.

"Please don't do that," Ginny said. "It's creepy enough to be wandering around with you three under the cloak."

The invisibility cloak, which had seemed so roomy when Harry, Ron and Hermione were first-years, now seemed to have shrunk several sizes. While both Harry and Malfoy were on the thin side for guys their age, they were still fully-grown and rather tall, and they both had to scrunch up to make sure no one's feet showed. In an attempt to stay away from each other, they'd forced Hermione to walk between them, which she wasn't happy with; Harry kept stepping on her foot, and every time Draco bumped into her she jumped and pressed herself against Harry, which he found rather disconcerting; he was jumpier than usual.

"Are we there yet?" Hermione whined, unable to see anything but the floor and Harry's back.

"Almost," Harry said with a sigh, consulting the map. "Filch is still in his office, and Snape is still in McGonagall's… there's a secret passage up ahead, but I don't think going down the narrow staircase in there is a good idea, better take the long way…"

Hermione groaned in frustration. All she wanted to do was sleep; she was tired, and her mind was buzzing with unpleasant questions. But no, they had to go see Snape. _Snape,_ of all people.

"Hey, guys," Ginny said thoughtfully as she led the way, "has anyone given any thought to just WHY Snape, McGonagall, and Oliver are in her office together?"

"What does it matter?" Harry asked.

"It doesn't matter much, I suppose," Ginny said, "but it's weird. Oliver doesn't exactly hang out with the teachers too often, especially not McGonagall and Snape. And the first time we checked the map was at least twenty minutes ago, and they haven't left."

"And what the hell was Ron talking about?" Harry said, warming to the subject. "Didn't he say he thought Hermione sent all three of them to attack Ron and the twins?"

"Something about singing and 'Feliz Navidad,'" Ginny said vaguely.

"It's a Christmas carol," Hermione said. "More popular in the Muggle world, though."

"…Snape attacked Fred, George and Ron while singing a Christmas carol?"

"With McGonagall and Wood helping him?"

"Wouldn't be the strangest thing he'd done lately," Draco muttered.

"No wonder Ron thinks it was you—Wood and Snape have no other connection," Harry mused. "Just you. And with you and Ron fighting…"

"Don't make me feel any worse—" Hermione began, but Draco cut her off.

"HA!" Draco exclaimed loudly. "So there IS some freakish love triangle between you, Wood and Snape!"

"Yes, Malfoy, that sounds _so_ logical," Hermione said, rolling her eyes and stomping on his foot.

"OW! Well, there's no other explanation! You and Snape, you and Wood…"

"And for some reason, they've joined forces to terrorize Ron with Christmas songs," Hermione finished. "Riiiight. Makes perfect sense. Before long, you'll be uncovering all my secrets. Maybe I should just tell you now—I'm the descendant of a fire-breathing sorceress and Merlin himself, and I'm an exotic dancer on the weekends. I also use the library for all of my secret rendezvous meetings with every male staff member under the age of fifty."

"Good to hear you're finally coming clean," Draco retorted with a smirk.

"Can we push him down the stairs now?" Hermione asked Harry and Ginny.

"Not until you get the chain off, and only if I can help," Ginny told her.

"Ditto on that," Harry agreed.

Firing off insults all the way, Harry, Hermione, Ginny and Draco made their way down to the corridor outside McGonagall's office. Harry, Hermione and Draco hid inside a nearby secret passage, and Ginny knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" called a rather nervous-sounding McGonagall.

"It's Ginny Weasley, professor! There's been a bit of an accident in the hallway on the way to Gryffindor tower; it looks like a spilled potion of some sort and I can't find my way across it, but it's—"

The door was suddenly yanked open to reveal a frightened-looking Oliver, who seized the front of Ginny's robes, hauled her inside, and began dragging her over to McGonagall's desk. "Hey! What are you—ARGH!"

Oliver shoved her down by pushing on her head and under the desk. She was so startled by her surroundings that she tried to back out and nearly cracked her head open on the underside of the desk; the small space beneath the desk had been enlarged by a spell similar to that put on the Weasleys' former car. Sitting beneath the desk were McGonagall and Snape, and in between them was a small green fire that didn't appear to be ruining the carpet it was burning upon.

"What's going on?" Ginny demanded as Oliver crawled under the desk behind her.

"Were you followed?" McGonagall asked sharply.

"What? No, why would—"

"Are you sure?" Oliver interrupted.

"Yes. What's wrong?" she demanded.

"Albus," Snape said darkly. "He's after us. He's going to get us."

"Um… Professor Dumbledore… is after you?"

"That's what I said, Weasley."

"Er… why?"

"Because it's the truth."

"No… I mean, why is he after you?"

"Because we stole his lemon drops."

Ginny stared at him. "What… is a lemon drop?"  
"These," Oliver said, and he, McGonagall and Snape all held up large bags of yellow candy, "are lemon drops."

"And you stole them from Dumbledore."

"And now he's gonna kill us, if he can find us. But he won't find us in here, no sir!" Snape gloated. "Marshmallow?"

Snape stuck a long stick in her face, a marshmallow on the end. McGonagall and Oliver each had one, too; they held the marshmallow carefully over the green fire. "We're making S'mores," Oliver explained. "Old recipe; my cousin's husband's a Muggle and he got me hooked on the things. Chocolate, graham cracker, marshmallow… nothing better than that."

"…You're making food on a campfire under your desk when Dumbledore is out to get you?" Ginny hissed, unable to fathom the logic behind that.

"Well, what else are we going to do?" Oliver said practically.

"Yeah, it's not like we're going to be able to go running through the halls singing 'Feliz Navidad,'" McGonagall said, as though the three of them did that on a regular basis.

"Why did you steal his lemon drops?" Ginny asked, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Just so we could say we committed the Great Lemon Drop Caper," Snape explained cheerfully, retracting the marshmallow he'd offered Ginny and holding it over the fire himself.

"Right. That sounds completely logical," Ginny said wearily. Remembering her mission, she added, "Um… Professor Snape, there appears to be a potion spilled in the corridor on the way up to Gryffindor Tower. It's a huge mess, and I can't seem to find my way around it; Hermione and I have been trying for close to three hours. Hermione's trying to clean it up, but she sent me to go find Professor McGonagall to help, and since you're here—"

"No can do, Weasley. S'mores are more important."

"Er… but the entire corridor is—"

"It can wait," Snape interrupted.

Ginny scratched her head. It was obvious to her that the three of them had gone insane; normal people didn't start campfires while hiding under desks after stealing the headmaster's candies. There was something seriously disturbing about seeing two of the strictest people she'd ever known sitting cross-legged and roasting marshmallows with a guy her brothers had hung out with for years, who had visited their house during vacations and sat with the twins at mealtimes on occasion. When she combined their manners with the fact that Harry and Hermione were waiting just down the hall under an invisibility cloak with _Malfoy_,waiting for Ginny to lure Snape outside so they could ask for his help…

"I suddenly don't feel so good," Ginny said. "I… think I'll just… be going now."

She turned to go, but Oliver blocked the exit. "I can't let you leave without eating a lemon drop." She arched and eyebrow at him and folded her arms across her chest. "That way you can't rat us out. If you've eaten a lemon drop, you're in the same boat as us."

Ginny sighed and held out her hand. "Fine." Oliver put a piece of the candy in her hand and waited for her to put it in her mouth before letting her pass. Ginny crawled out from beneath the desk and practically ran to the door.

* * *

Harry, Hermione and Draco had separated a little in the cramped secret passage, only partially covered by the cloak, with Harry keeping an almost constant eye on the Marauder's Map to make sure they could hide themselves fully before they were discovered. Draco kept looking at the map curiously.

"Where did you get that thing, Potter?" Draco asked finally, having seen and heard enough of it by this point to know what it was.

"None of your business, Malfoy."

"I was just asking, you know," Draco snapped. "It's not like I could turn you in for having it. Dumbledore probably already knows. Knowing you, he probably gave it to you."

"Didn't hear you complaining when it helped us get here," Harry retorted.

"Whatever happened to Gryffindor bravery? What, you can't leave the dorms without hiding behind a cloak and checking for teachers with that map thing?"

"It's called 'not being stupid enough to get caught.'"

"Harry, try not to talk to him, would you?" Hermione said, leaning against a wall, her eyes half-closed. "He's much quieter when you ignore him."

Harry snorted, still watching the map. "If I could make him stay quiet by ignoring—hmm. This is… interesting."

"What?" Hermione said, standing up straight and coming over to look.

"The map… Oliver appeared to have opened the door, while Snape and McGonagall went over here. Then Oliver and Ginny went over here together, and they're all standing very close. …Too close, in fact."

"Harry, according to the placement of the windows and doors, they're all sitting on Professor McGonagall's desk," Hermione pointed out. "There's not enough room for three adults and Ginny to sit on the desk."

"And why would they do that, anyway?" Harry wondered.

Hermione frowned. "Maybe there's some sort of spell on the room we haven't noticed before, an enlargement spell or something. Something that would turn a small space into a large space, so all we see is them standing in a small space."

"Maybe… but that space is right on top of the desk, isn't it?" Harry said.

"Hmm. Well, look, here comes Ginny. She'll tell us when she gets here."

"Hey, she's alone!" Draco exclaimed indignantly. He had moved closer to look over their shoulders without them noticing.

"I'm sure she'll explain when she gets here," Hermione told him, and turned away from him. They put the cloak up over their heads but left it open in the front, so Ginny could see them but no one coming up behind them could.

Ginny pushed open the entrance to the secret passage a moment later, looking rather unhappy. Her eyes kept darting around nervously, and she had a look on her face like she'd just eaten something sour.

Gulping loudly and making an even more sour face, Ginny coughed slightly and spoke. "Sorry, guys, I'm out," she said, her eyes watering. "I'm not eating anymore lemon drops, and Snape's a tad busy making S'mores."

"What?" Draco said, staring at her.

"I'm your friend," she told Harry and Hermione, ignoring Draco, "but I'm not sitting around anymore campfires. Wait until morning to talk to Snape." With that, she turned on her heel and marched away.

"Campfires?" Hermione repeated.

"In McGonagall's office?" Harry said, staring down at the map, as though expecting it to tell him something more believable.

"S'mores… why would they be making S'mores?" Hermione wondered. "They're all purebloods, aren't they?"

"What's a lemon drop?" Draco wondered aloud, not really expecting an answer from either of them.

"I guess we'll have to go ourselves," Harry said, glaring in the general direction Ginny had disappeared in.

"It's too suspicious, now that we've already sent Ginny."

"So?" Draco started to move out from under the cloak. "Let's just go in there and demand some answers—"

"If you remember, the last time any of us were out in the middle of the night, reason or not, Gryffindor was docked a hundred and fifty points and Harry, Neville, you and I received detention."

"It was your own fault, transporting an illegal dragon," Draco said smugly.

"Just because you would never stick your neck out for a friend—oh, wait, you don't _have _any _real_ friends—"

"What do you know, Granger? You're such a freak that the only people who would hang out with you are—OW!"

Draco doubled over; Harry had just elbowed him hard in the gut. "I'm getting really sick of you," Harry growled.

"I've _been_ sick of you," Draco retorted.

Harry started to say something, then stopped. "You know, I just realized something. I'll always hate you. …Wow. I feel so much better."

"The feeling's mutual. Why wouldn't you?"

"You know why."

"No, I don't."

"You had the vision, too."

"Why would THAT make you think we wouldn't hate each other? I should think if anything that would make us hate each other more. And by the way, those visions AREN'T real. They can't be. They're bogus. I mean, I was bit by a cheese demon. Surely it's just some sort of hallucination."

"I am REALLY sick of this vision crap," Hermione said. "Shut up about it, will you? Snape's having a campout in McGonagall's office, and if it could actually freak out Ginny, people who are on their last shred of sanity, like the people standing in this secret passage with their worst enemy and an invisibility cloak, will not be able to handle it. Let's just get some sleep; honestly, haven't you both had enough fun for today? Weren't the Cheese Spirit, Quidditch practice, and the attempted arm-removing enough?"

With that, Hermione marched out of the secret passage.


	31. The Shampoo Duel

**Chapter Thirty**

_The Shampoo Duel_

Between their shared visions and their interrupted argument, Harry and Draco were both in a foul mood the whole way back to the dormitory. While neither of them spoke much, Hermione could practically feel their anger radiating off of them in waves… which only increased when they returned to the Gryffindor common room (after retrieving the chair and removing the cloak) to find everyone who'd been in the common room when they'd left and then some waiting for them, all of them with eager expressions, as though they were hoping for explanations or more stuff to gossip about. Ginny was nowhere to be seen. Ignoring everyone, they headed for their room.

"I need a shower," Hermione mumbled the moment they got into the guestroom.

"You've already had one today, not six hours ago," Harry pointed out.

"And about seventeen yesterday," Draco muttered with a pained expression. It seemed like the head-inflation incident, the hospital wing, the food fight, and the bathroom fiasco had all been ages ago; it was hard to believe that they'd only been chained together for three days.

Hermione glared at him before looking back at Harry wearily. "I need another one," she said tiredly. She'd gotten slightly sweaty being under the cloak and running from Draco at practice, and felt somewhat grimy; maybe it was just her imagination—or maybe one of the boys hadn't bathed properly—but she also thought she could still smell rancid cheese.

Harry glanced at the books, no doubt thinking that he'd at least get a chance to research the visions if he was in the bathroom instead of in bed, and nodded, pulling out his wand and aiming it at Draco, who scowled but didn't say anything. Hermione gathered up her nightgown and some fresh towels, then led the way to the bathroom.

Harry attempted to read while Hermione showered, but it seemed that Draco had a bad habit of being unable to keep quiet or still, and eventually Draco started to antagonize Harry. Before she knew it, they were screaming at each other.

"At least I don't have to have a Mudblood _girl_ do my homework for me!"

"You're just jealous because your only friends are as stupid as you are!"

Hermione growled, having been able to block them out up until now; she was starting to lose all patience, however. Somewhere between "At least they're purebloods!" and "Yeah, and inbred!" Hermione did the only thing she could think to do—she grabbed a spare bar of soap from the shelf in the shower and lobbed it over the shower curtain in Harry and Draco's general direction.

"OW!" Harry yelled a split-second later.

"What the—?" Draco exclaimed before he burst out laughing.

"Sorry, Harry," Hermione called meekly.

"What was that for?" Harry demanded.

"I was aiming for Malfoy!"

"No offense, but your aim sucks."

"BWAHAHAHAH—OW!"

Hermione heard a slight slapping sound, and could only assume that Harry had thrown the soap bar at Draco. She turned to look through the shower curtain; all she could see was shadows, but it looked like they were now playing a demented game of catch with the soap; one would throw the soap, the other would use his Quidditch-player reflexes to catch it (occasionally fumbling it a little from the slipperiness), and then throw it back. Why they were bothering to throw soap instead of use wands or fists, she couldn't say, but she was worried that they'd finally lost it.

She sighed, figuring that she might as well finish her shower and turning away, too tired and annoyed to deal with their antics right now. Just as she'd closed her eyes and stuck her head under the spray to rinse off her shampoo, she heard the curtain rustle and a moment later, something touched her back.

Hermione yelped and leaped to the other side of the shower. Turning as quickly as she could and opening her eyes, she saw Draco's arm inside the shower, waving around for some reason. Just as she started forward, intent upon ripping his fingers off, Draco's hand closed around her conditioner bottle and withdrew.

"HEY! Give that back!" Hermione cried.

"Ha! Come on, Potter! Show me what you got!" Draco yelled, ignoring her.

Another hand brushed her back, and Hermione shrieked and jumped back towards the front of the shower. This time, it was Harry's hand that was groping around inside the shower; he seized her bottle of shampoo and retorted, "Anytime, you little prick!"

A series of loud thwacking noises and miscellaneous shouts of things like "HA!" and "Take THAT!" began. Hermione rolled her eyes and peeked around the shower curtain; Harry and Draco were duking it out with her hair care products, parrying blows like they would in a fencing match and occasionally landing hits on each other.

"Give it up, Malfoy!" Harry said during a momentary pause where he and Draco stood back, panting and holding their bottles at the ready.

"Never!" Draco proclaimed, and lunged at Harry, swinging madly.

Harry sidestepped him and smacked him in the head as he passed. "You're not going to beat me," Harry warned. "I've sword-fought a basilisk, _and_ won."

"Yeah? That was five years ago, and I knocked a few twigs loose from Wood's broom only this afternoon, so I think I'll take my chances!"

Draco, forced to stop his lunge because of the chain, turned and swung his bottle at Harry, who blocked. Almost too fast for the eye to see, Draco whipped the bottle under Harry's guard and walloped Harry in the side. Hermione turned away in disgust as the battle continued, then realized she couldn't finish her shower without her conditioner.

Hermione reached for her wand, which she now kept in her arm cuff, fastened with a spell high up on the shower wall away from the water. She stuck her left hand through the curtain, then raised her wand and yelled, _"Accio conditioner!"_

Even as the bottle zoomed into her hand, she heard Draco shout "No fair! You little bitch!" and Harry's bottle smacking more repeatedly against Draco's body. Before Hermione could begin to feel smug about it, Draco's hand plunged back into the shower, startling her half to death once again. This time, his hand was in front of her; not wanting him to get up the nerve and the brains to open the curtain to look and see where another bottle was, she whacked him with her conditioner bottle a few times and grudgingly handed him a bottle of his own expensive "Young Wizards" shampoo.

Hermione refused to let their petty fight bother her (after all, she'd seen and been involved in her fair share of petty fights over the past few days), and did her best to ignore them. She used mostly her right arm to condition her hair and finish washing herself (as Draco kept jerking around her left in the course of the fight) and singing old Muggle pop songs to cover up the noise. She finished her shower without any further annoyances, and managed to get dried and dressed inside the shower without falling over (which was no easy task, with Draco running around the bathroom). Once she was done, she paused in her singing to see if they'd stopped fighting, and, when a shout of "DIE!" reached her ears, followed by "When will you evil jackasses learn that NOTHING KILLS ME!" she resumed her singing.

Half an hour and most of an album later, Hermione decided that she couldn't stay in the shower all night and pulled back the curtain, halting her singing.

If she hadn't been singing so loud, she might have noticed that somewhere along the line, Harry and Draco had stopped shouting insults at one another and that each hit the bottle made caused a much more hollow sound, but as she'd been half-screaming herself, she was completely surprised by the sight that met her eyes. Harry and Draco were still dueling, but it appeared that sometime during the fight, one of them had gotten the bright idea to squirt the other with their shampoo, and the other had followed suit. Harry was now coated in a blue slimy substance that could only be "Young Wizards," while Draco was covered from head to toe in Hermione's apple-scented Muggle shampoo. The entire bathroom seemed to be coated in blue and green slime, and through it all, Draco and Harry were still going at it with their mostly-empty containers, slipping in the shampoo but somehow managing to stay upright. The shouting had stopped because both boys were keeping their mouths firmly closed, in an attempt to keep the gunk out of their mouths.

"What are you DOING?" Hermione shrieked.

Harry looked over at her and promptly lost his footing; he landed hard on his side. Draco let out a triumphant yell and advanced on him… and then fell flat on his back, thanks to Hermione giving the chain a good hard yank.

"What is WRONG with you two?" Hermione shouted. "Are you complete infants? Who in their right minds has _a shampoo duel?"_

"He started it!" Harry said indignantly.

"No, HE started it!" Draco was quick to say.

"No, HE—"

"Technically, I started it," Hermione cut in, "but that was an accident—"

"Was not," Draco muttered, sitting up.

"And it shouldn't matter! That does not give you the right to waste perfectly good shampoo while beating each other—"

"My _shampoo!"_ Draco wailed, only just realizing that he'd just wasted it all. "You're going to pay for this, Potter!"

Harry struggled into a sitting position. "Bring it, Malfoy."

"STOP IT!" Hermione screamed, waving her wand about wildly. "JUST STOP! Do you have ANY idea how many curses I know? You're going to stop, and you're going to go to sleep, or you're going to be turned into hermit crabs!"

Grudgingly, Harry looked at Draco and held his bottle out to the side. Draco did the same; he waited for Harry to drop his bottle first, then dropped his own, not wanting to get hit with a curse in the back by an angry girl, especially not since he'd become rather bruised over the past hour, between hitting the shampoo bottles, Harry's fists, and the walls and floor (and he had had enough bruises already, given how badly his weekend had gone).

_"Evanesco,"_ Hermione intoned, pointing her wand at the room in general. The shampoo vanished, leaving only a faint smell of apples and what she assumed was Draco's shampoo. Fighting the urge to growl, she stomped over to the sink to brush her teeth. She reached for her tube of toothpaste… and discovered it was missing. Sighing heavily, she asked, "Does someone want to tell me what happened to my toothpaste?"

"Um… it's… over here," Harry mumbled, and got up, crossed the room, and picked something up off the floor before walking to Hermione and holding out a tube of nearly-empty toothpaste.

"What happened to it?" Hermione asked wearily, unable to muster any more Mrs.-Weasley-like moments.

"Um… well…" Harry began, reddening and rubbing the back of his neck, "I disarmed Malfoy… and he got out his wand and tried to Summon something, but I think he missed—"

"I did NOT," Draco muttered darkly.

"And your toothpaste zoomed over, only it didn't really work well as a sword, so he squirted me with your toothpaste, and while I was trying to get out of the way of it, I saw your lotion—"

Hermione spluttered angrily; now that she thought of it, the smell in the room wasn't apples and "Young Wizards," but apples and peaches. "My favorite lotion? My wonderful-smelling, wonderful-feeling, _very expensive_ peach-scented lotion?"

"I'll buy you a new one," Harry said meekly, picking up a large bottle from the floor and setting it down on the counter with a hollow clunking noise.

"And _then_ what happened?" Hermione demanded, narrowing her eyes.

"Well… I squirted him with the lotion, then I ran out, so I tried to go back to the sink… only it didn't work out too well; I slipped in the lotion and toothpaste, and I accidentally kicked his shampoo back over to him… and he squirted that at me, so I shot back with your shampoo…"

Harry trailed off, blushing and seeming to cower before her like a first year student facing an angry McGonagall. Hermione sighed, used a spell to clean her teeth as best she could, and headed for the bedroom. "I'm going to bed."

No sooner had she stepped into the main room than a knock sounded on the door. "Um… Hermione?" came Neville's voice, sounding rather worried. "Are you in there?"

"What is it, Neville?" Hermione asked, hurrying towards the door, Draco dragging behind her.

"I was just… wondering if you were okay. I heard shouting…"

"And who was that singing old Backstreet Boys tunes?" yelled another voice, which was unmistakably Lavender Brown. Hermione froze with her hand on the doorknob.

"How many people are out there, Neville?" Hermione called cautiously, backing slowly away from the door.

"Um… a few…"

"Thirty-two!" called Dennis Creevey helpfully.

_"Thirty-two?"_ Harry repeated incredulously.

"You've been making quite a racket, you know," called George. "We heard you all the way in Ron's room."

"What are you talking about?" said Dean Thomas. "You both had your ears pressed to the door when Seamus and I—OW!"

"Was that Harry yelling 'I am immortal; eat potion?'" asked Colin Creevey.

"It was lotion!" Draco called back without thinking.

"Why does everything smell like apples and peaches?" Parvati Patil demanded.

"Forget that, what were you fighting about?" Jack Sloper wanted to know.

"Hey, whatever happened with that cheese monster, guys?" Seamus Finnigan asked.

"Can I come in?" came Ginny's voice. She was apparently over whatever had happened in McGonagall's office; she sounded rather amused. _"This_ I gotta hear."

"Oh, be quiet, Ginny, or I'll make sure you have another campout with Snape!" Hermione yelled crossly.

There was silence on the other side of the door for a few minutes; Hermione could only speculate, but she was fairly certain that everyone was now staring questioningly at Ginny. "…Thanks, Hermione," Ginny said after a moment, sighing. "Thanks a lot."

"Campout with Snape?" Fred repeated.

"...I think I'll just retreat now, and think up a good explanation… though I can tell you now, its foundation will be the argument that Hermione is delusional."

"I am NOT delusional! Just for that, you get lemon drops for Christmas!"

"…What's a lemon drop?" asked Neville, who, like most purebloods, was unfamiliar with Muggle candy.

"Goodnight, Hermione!" Ginny called. "G'night, Harry!"

"Goodnight," they both called back sourly.

"You can't leave, Gin! You're our ticket in!" exclaimed one of Ginny's roommates.

"Somebody stop her!" Fred yelled.

"Get back! I'll put the Bat-Bogey Hex on each and every one of you!"

"Watch it, guys, I think she's serious!" George said nervously.

"You're damned right, I am!"

"But she's the only one who knows the password! How will we get _in?"_ Lavender whined.

"NO ONE is getting in!" Hermione fairly screamed. "I'm going to bed!"

"Hey, is it true that you and Malfoy have to share a bed?" Parvati asked.

"NO!" Harry, Hermione and Draco shouted as one.

"Fine. We'll just wait out here. Harry has to come out sometime!" Lavender yelled. Harry nervously edged away from the door.

"Actually, Harry hasn't been sleeping in our room," Seamus said.

There was another long pause. Hermione put her head in her hands; sure enough, a few moments later, everyone started talking at once, speculating on just why Harry was now rooming with Hermione.

"So he's sleeping in _there?"_

"With Hermione and MALFOY?"

"I KNEW Hermione dumped Ron for him!"

"Never thought you had it in you, girl!"

"Go Hermione, go Hermione, go, go, go Hermione!"

"Pay up, Andrew! That's five Galleons!"

"I AM SOUND-PROOFING THE DOOR!" Hermione screamed.

_"Really?"_ Fred said, his tone so suggestive that Hermione vowed to strangle him. _"Why,_ exactly?" A loud round of laughter sounded.

"Oh, that's _IT!"_ Hermione roared.

Hermione unlocked the door and yanked it open, raising her wand… and suddenly there was a stampede to get back through the wall and into the common room. Harry rushed forward to try and hold her back, doing his best to get her wand down and succeeding just long enough for the wall to start to close behind the last Gryffindor. Fred and George, seeing her contained momentarily by Harry, paused.

"By the way, Hermione," Fred called as the wall slid shut, "nice nightgown!"

Harry released Hermione, who glared at the blank wall but turned around and marched back into the bedroom, flopping down on her bed. Harry smiled weakly at her as he shut the door, locked it, and put a few charms on it.

"Remember what you said last summer," Harry said as he got into bed next to her, "about writing a book? Maybe even a series, telling the story of me and you and Ron, and defeating Voldemort, and our time at Hogwarts?"

"Yeah?" Hermione said.

"If you ever do write that book," Harry told her as he took off his glasses, "leave this part out."


	32. Blame It All on the Prank War

**Chapter Thirty-one**

_Blame It All on the Prank War_

For a little while, it seemed that Harry and Draco were through fighting for the night. They were both quiet, and Hermione was able to drift off to sleep. However, not long after she'd started breathing regularly, Draco muttered, "This is all your fault."

_"My_ fault?" Harry hissed incredulously.

Draco, whose main intention was to wake Hermione up rudely from her sleep (after all she'd put him through, she didn't deserve a good night's rest), glared over at Harry. "Yeah, you. If you hadn't started this mess—"

"ME? ME? _You_ started this mess!" Harry snapped as loudly as he dared. "You, with that prank on Hermione!"

"If you weren't such an asshole, I never would have started it."

_"I'm_ an asshole? Ha! You've never been anything but an asshole, and everyone in Hogwarts agrees."

"Oh, good comeback, Potter. Who taught you that? Weasel? Or that big oaf Hagrid?"

"Shut your mouth," Harry snarled, knowing Draco was just trying to bait him… but he'd been put through the ringer for the past few days because of Draco, and his patience was long gone.

"Why don't you make me, Potter?"

"Why don't you just jump off the astronomy tower, Malfoy?"

"Why don't I just push you off it?"

"I'd like to see you try."

"Once again, great comeback. Haven't heard that one since before I started Hogwarts."

"Why are you even still AT Hogwarts? Why couldn't you have just gone to jail or died like your loser father and the rest of the Death—"

"Why couldn't _you_ have just died with _your_ parents like _you_ were supposed to?" Draco interrupted angrily.

Both of them had just been pushed over the edge; they each reached for their wands simultaneously, but Draco got there first. He started to call out a spell; in a last-ditch attempt to stop him, Harry threw his body to the side and hit the chain, yanking Draco to the ground. Draco's wand flew out of his hand; he hit the floor and reached for Harry's legs, trying to pull him down before Harry could get his own wand. Harry kicked him, as hard as he could with bare feet, and Draco yelped before grabbing Harry's foot and yanking. Harry flew backwards onto the bed, kicking Draco in the opposite direction as he went… so Hermione awoke to Harry landing painfully on her stomach and her left arm nearly being pulled out of its socket by Draco.

Hermione's eyes flew open, flashing with fury as Harry scrambled off of her. She drew her wand and hit them both with the Impediment Jinx, which was painful but not paralyzing. Both of them got back up fairly fast, looking at her warily.

"I'm not going to get yanked out of my bed every night," Hermione snarled. "From Cheese Spirit to shampoo, I've had a rough day, and you two are _not_ going to make it any rougher!"

Hermione advanced, and the two boys quickly backed up accordingly, Draco more worried than Harry (as Draco didn't have seven years of friendship on his side—or the ability to move more than five feet away from her) but Hermione stopped once she was clear of the bed and turned around. She waved her wand and called out a levitation charm; Harry and Hermione's nightstand lifted high into the air and, with Hermione's wand directing it, settled on the other side of the bed. The same fate met Draco's nightstand, and another wave of her wand sent the two beds colliding with a loud crash. Lastly, she called out a warding spell, something Harry had seen her use several times when she wanted to ensure that she was the only one who could undo a spell.

"There," she said in satisfaction, and crawled back onto the bed, which was slightly more difficult without the space in the middle being there; the mattresses were pushed flush against each other. Considering the length of the chain, neither of them would be able to fall off either edge if they slept on opposite ends of the bed.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, staring at her in horror.

"I'm making sure I don't get yanked onto the floor anymore," Hermione said sleepily, already burrowing under the covers with her head on the pillow.

"I am NOT sleeping with the beds right next to each other," Harry said.

"Me either," Draco said, crossing his arms over his chest as best he could with the chain stretching out over the bed.

"Suit yourself," Hermione said, closing her eyes.

Harry glared at her, then brightened and looked at Draco. "Well, if you're not sleeping in there, then why should I care?" He grinned at Draco's furious expression. "Goodnight, Malfoy!"

Harry hopped onto the bed. Hermione opened her eyes just enough to look at Draco and smirk, and then both she and Harry attempted to sleep.

Draco considered making enough noise to keep them up all night, but he had no doubt that he'd end up paralyzed on the floor again; Harry and Hermione were both better at spells than he was, and short of hitting them in their sleep, he didn't see how he could get the drop on both of them at the same time, but they'd both be furious when they woke up (and therefore more dangerous). He didn't really see any way to hit them with anything gruesome without waking them up, and there was no point in knocking them out when they were already asleep… unless he went all out and killed them, but that would probably have serious repercussions; for some reason, the general populous actually wanted the two of them alive.

He sighed. He was tired, and short of sleeping standing up, he wasn't going to get any rest. He knew a few charms that might separate the beds again, but all of them would probably wake up Harry and Hermione, and Draco really wasn't up for a fight just then. There was no visible way to fix the bed situation without both of them attacking him, and Draco was too tired to think of one, anyway.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, sulking. It figured that they'd find a way to push him right out of his bed… but, really, why should he let them? Why should he have to lose sleep? It was _his_ bed, and from what he'd seen, Harry and Hermione didn't roll around much in their sleep. He could probably just sleep down on the edge… and then both Gryffindors would see him in the morning and realize that they hadn't won after all. He wasn't going to let them push him around like this; and when they saw that Draco hadn't given up the bed entirely, they'd surely move the beds back apart, being as immature as they were.

"Right," Draco whispered to himself, and climbed onto the bed, as far away from Hermione and Harry as possible.

* * *

The next morning, Ginny trudged downstairs, dark circles under her eyes. She hadn't been able to get everyone to leave her alone for ages, and it was only after she'd actually used the Bat-Bogey Hex on Lavender Brown that the questions died down. Still, Ginny hadn't been able to sleep; her roommates' chattering had kept her awake, and when she'd finally slept her dreams had been completely bizarre. She dreamt she was back under McGonagall's desk with Snape, Oliver and McGonagall, and Ginny's roommates' gossip blended in to the dream, so the three professors all sounded like teenaged girls and discussed almost nothing but Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco. They kept asking her to eat lemon drops, too; somewhere around her fifth refusal, they'd started throwing large bags of lemon drops at her, and when she was nearly buried in them, the desk had exploded above them and she'd looked up to see Dumbledore standing above her, looking scarier than Voldemort ever had and screaming at her for stealing from him. Ginny had woken up with a yelp, cursed Harry and Hermione's existence, and tried to sleep again, only to dream about Snape some more. This time, he'd given her a Christmas sweater like the one she'd seen him wandering around in, and then told her that he needed her help to cut Draco's arm off and that she'd be expelled if she didn't do it and tried by the Ministry and sentenced to wearing the sweater for the rest of her life should she be found guilty.

Needless to say, she'd given up on sleep after that.

She was incredibly tired, but at least she'd gotten in some last-minute studying; she was a little worried about the lack of study time she'd had in the past few weeks, but she fairly certain she could scrape a passing grade. She was really more worried about the lemon drop thing; surely Dumbledore wasn't REALLY after McGonagall, Wood and Snape, was he? No, of course not. He would have already caught them… right?

Ginny did her best not to think about it as she headed down to Hermione's room, figuring she'd just hide in there for as long as possible before sneaking down to the kitchens to breakfast. Since Hermione's Quidditch practice, a lot of rumors had been flying about Hermione and Snape… and thirty-one Gryffindors knowing that Ginny had sat around at least one "campfire" with Snape wasn't going to make her life very easy.

She was almost to the bottom of the girls' dormitory staircases when a long, horrified shriek cut through the early morning stillness like a samurai sword; she nearly fell down the remaining steps in shock. She recognized the scream immediately from the previous day—Malfoy. Another, deeper yell—Harry's voice, she was sure of it—added to the noise. Whatever it was had to be major; they both sounded absolutely panicked.

She could hear people waking up with startled yelps all around her; the sound was echoing around Gryffindor Tower and probably half the seventh floor. Ginny steadied herself on the stairs and ran for Hermione's room, praying that her friends were okay.

* * *

Draco awoke quite suddenly, so suddenly that he wasn't sure what the cause was. Something caught his eye and he turned his head to the right… to see Hermione, kneeling beside him.

"About time," she said, smiling at him in a distinctively suggestive way. "I've been waiting ages for you to wake up."

"Why didn't you just yell or something?" he asked, regarding her warily.

"You looked so cute in your sleep," she said, her smile widening.

Draco swallowed, wondering if this was some sort of prank, or if she'd been cursed somehow… and hoping fervently that he was imagining things.

"Where's Potter?" he blurted out, knowing that Harry should be freaking out right now if Hermione was acting the way Draco thought she was.

"I asked him to leave."

"You… why?" Draco demanded, feeling a jolt of panic.

"Because I want to be alone with you," she said, trailing a finger along his jaw line and down his neck.

"Why?" Draco asked in a high-pitched voice that sounded more like a squeak. His every instinct was screaming at him to run, but he couldn't seem to move.

"I want to tell you a secret," she said, lowering her voice to a whisper. Her hand kept moving lower down his chest, very slowly, her touch feather-light.

"What?" Draco choked out. _RUN! RUN RUN RUN!_ his brain screamed at him.

Hermione leaned down and put her mouth very close to his ear… too close. Far too close. "You were right. I _can_ get the chain off."

"W-wha… you… how… you _can?"_ Draco stammered, his brain refusing to process this.

"I just don't want to," she continued.

"You like chains, do you?" he said, then cursed himself; that was NOT the right thing to say at a moment like this. She was coming on to him! WHAT WAS GOING ON?

Hermione giggled. "Well, that… and you."

"Me?"

Hermione pulled back, staring down at him. "Oh, the look on your face," she said in amusement. "All shocked and fearful…" A mischievous glint appeared in her eye. "I'll help you relax, though, don't worry."

_RUN YOU STUPID IDIOT!_ his brain shouted, but Draco was still frozen in place. The commands to run were now warring with the phrase "Granger's seducing me, Granger's seducing me," which kept repeating in his head like a mantra.

Hermione started to lean towards him, her lips parted and her eyes closing. Sheer terror fought with anticipation and excitement… he wanted her to do it, but he hated her, yes, he hated her, he hated her…

"ARGH! NO!"

Draco's entire body jerked and his eyes flew open. Hermione was gone.

_A dream,_ Draco thought happily, relief flooding him as he closed his eyes again. _It was all just a dream. Granger didn't try to kiss me. In fact, I'm not chained to her. I'm in my own bed, and the prank war never happened. I'm in the Slytherin dorm… and apparently there's someone with me, so it must have been a great night last night…_

Draco shifted a little; someone was curled up around him, undoubtedly someone he'd been getting drunk with last night; his head hurt rather badly, and he felt like he had a few bruises… so all signs pointed to him getting trashed. Strange; he rarely let himself get drunk enough that he would wake up hung over with no memory of the previous night, but there was no other explanation—

"Hermione, stop moving," mumbled a decidedly masculine voice.

Harry Potter's voice.

Draco opened his eyes and turned to look at his companion. Apparently, the prank war really had happened. He was really chained to Hermione. His head hurt and his body was bruised for many reasons, one of which was that Hermione had bashed him in the head with Oliver's broom and Harry had whacked him with a shampoo bottle.

But more importantly, Harry was cuddled up against him.

"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Harry jerked awake. His head wasn't on one of his best friends' stomachs… but his worst enemy's chest.

"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"What's wrong? What's happening?" Hermione was now awake, her wand drawn, Harry's wand in her free hand and extended towards him, but he wasn't exactly paying attention. Harry had sat up, as had Draco, and they were both just screaming in each other's faces; she couldn't see what the problem was.

Harry dove off the bed, still screaming, and ran like a lunatic for the bathroom. A moment later, the sound of violent puking replaced his mortified shouting.

"Harry!" Hermione yelled, trying to follow him but only able to get to the foot of the bed because of the chain; she tried yanking on it, but Draco refused to move, still screaming in complete terror. "HARRY! Are you okay?"

The door burst open just then, and Ginny rushed in, looking frightened. "What's going on?" she gasped.

"Help Harry!" Hermione shrieked, tossing her Harry's wand and gesturing towards the bathroom. Ginny nodded and dashed for the bathroom… leaving the bedroom door open.

"Hermione! What…"

Hermione turned; the Weasley twins had just arrived, and most of the residents of Gryffindor Tower were right on their heels. Hermione opened her mouth, then closed it hopelessly, having no idea what was going on.

"What's wrong?" called an urgent voice, and Ron burst through the crowd, looking beyond worried.

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, relieved. "Harry… Malfoy… they both just started screaming! I don't—"

"Where's Harry?" Ron demanded.

"Bathroom, I think he's—"

Ginny ran back out of the bathroom, looking green. "I love you, Herm, but I can't watch Harry puke much longer. It's disgusting."

"What's wrong with him?" Hermione asked, raising her voice even more to be heard over Draco's continuous screaming.

"If he ever stops puking, I'll ask him," Ginny said crossly.

"Out of my way," Ron said, and pushed past her into the bathroom.

Hermione grabbed the chain and gave it a strong yank as discreetly as she could, but to no avail; Draco didn't move, nor did he shut up. _"Silencio!"_ she yelled in exasperation, but Draco continued to screech, his mouth gaping open in a silent scream.

Hermione sighed, thankful that she couldn't hear him… though the sound was replaced by Harry's retching and Ron muttering something. Before she could decide if this was a good thing or a bad thing, Parvati Patil, who was peering between the twins, decided to make matters worse.

"So you DO have to share a bed with Malfoy!"

Hermione rounded on her. "Get. OUT!" she growled through gritted teeth, her eyes flashing.

"Go on, guys," said George, turning around and shooing away the ones who hadn't immediately run for it. "There's nothing to see here."

"Are you okay?" Fred asked, stepping towards Hermione.

"I'd be a lot better if life wasn't so damned strange," she muttered. Yanking on the chain again fruitlessly, Hermione looked over at him. "What was with you guys yesterday, anyway? Something about Snape and singing?"

Fred's expression became stony. "You, of all people, should know better than to mess with us and then act all innocent afterwards."

Hermione sighed and threw up her hands. "Fine. Don't believe me. The idea that I sent Snape to _sing_ at you make so much more sense."

"This is a prank war, Hermione," Fred told her sharply. "We're the best pranksters Hogwarts has ever seen, and after that little stunt you pulled yesterday, we're on Ron's side."

"The prank war," Hermione said bitterly. "Could you be any more juvenile?"

"This from the girl who tied Malfoy to the goalpost in women's underwear," George retorted pointedly.

"You know what?" Hermione snapped. "I don't care what you do. I'll kick your ass, do you understand me? I don't know what you think I did, but if I were going to prank you, you'd _know_ it and I wouldn't pretend I hadn't. _You_ are the ones who will make the first move, and when you do, expect some major payback."

"Just try it, little girl," Fred said coldly, and he and George turned and left.

Hermione sighed, realizing that she'd just made life a lot worse for herself but not really caring. She was tired, she was unable to leave the presence of her least favorite classmate, and ever minute of every day seemed to bring some new problem. Part of her hoped the twins _would_ try something… just so she could release a little anger.

Ginny stood up and sighed, glancing from the door to Hermione and back again. "Listen… I _really_ don't want to go back out there, but if you want me to talk to them…"

"Gin, don't suffer anymore at my expense," Hermione said wearily. "If you want to, go for it, but I'm not going to ask you to stick your neck out further."

Ginny smiled. "Hey, what are friends for?" she said. She left as well, leaving Hermione alone with the silently screaming Draco.

* * *

"Harry, come on," Ron said in exasperation as Harry continued to heave. "What the hell did you do, eat raw hippogriff?"

"Worse," Harry choked out.

"What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Harry said glumly.

Ron sat back on his heels. "Harry…" he began slowly.

"Ron, listen," Harry said quickly, "don't storm out on us. We need you. We're your friends. Hermione's your _girlfriend._ We've been through a lot together. I've tried, but I can't do this alone. Malfoy's driving me mad, and there's all these new problems… it's not supposed to be Hermione and Harry. It's supposed to be _Ron,_ Hermione and Harry."

Ron's face clouded. "You're right, Harry. It's supposed to be. But it isn't. You and Hermione are keeping things from me—things that you don't even keep from Ginny and the twins! _And_ she's cheating on me—"

"You _know_ she wouldn't do that," Harry said hotly, standing up and going to the sink to brush his teeth.

"Yeah? Then what's this about hickeys, huh? She's been alone in Snape's office, doing god-knows-what—"

"Playing a prank on Malfoy, that's what!" Harry insisted.

"Yeah? She and Snape are pretty friendly though, aren't they? And they practically attacked me and Fred and George yesterday, Snape and Wood. Her ex that she never bothered to tell me about. That _you_ never bothered to tell me about. And Snape, I don't even know where to start—"

"Ron, the whole school has lost its mind! Why would Wood and Snape do anything together? Especially if they're both supposedly mad about Hermione? Snape's been singing and dancing all over Hogwarts. He's wearing _color._ And Wood was never entirely sane, either; you remember what I told you about him as Quidditch captain! If you would just stop being stupid and open your eyes—"

Ron tensed and Harry cringed, knowing that he'd said the wrong thing. "I didn't mean it like that," Harry said hastily.

"You didn't?" Ron said coldly.

"No, I—"

"Have a nice life with Hermione, Harry," Ron snarled. "Maybe Snape will let you be the best man."

With that, he stomped out of the bathroom.

* * *

Hermione sat down on the edge of the bed, wondering what was going on in the bathroom. Harry and Ron seemed to be talking right now, but she couldn't make out what they were saying. She hoped it was something good.

A few seconds later, Ron came out of the bathroom, and her heart sank. He looked ready to kill someone.

"Ron…" she began, and he stopped and turned to look at her. She hastily jumped off the bed… then wished she hadn't, as it made her look rather guilty.

Ron glared at her, then turned to look at Draco, who was still screaming silently. Ron's eyes swept over the bed, then around the room, as if he were looking for something. Hermione realized suddenly how bad it must look; Ron wasn't going to give her time to explain just why she'd pushed the beds together, and from the lack of pillows and blankets anywhere but the bed, it was obvious that the three of them had been sharing… which, she had to admit, looked very, very odd.

"So… you're sharing a bed with Malfoy too now?" Ron said in a carefully controlled voice. "And Harry too, right? Well—"

"Ron! You know perfectly well that I am NOT doing anything with Harry or Malfoy or Snape—"

"No," Ron said bluntly, "I don't. I wouldn't have thought you'd do it before. Now, I'm barely surprised."

"You know me, Ron. You know I'm not like that."

"Maybe I _would_ know you, if you weren't always lying," Ron snapped, and marched away. Hermione tried to follow him, but Draco still wouldn't move.

Suddenly, her hurt was replaced by anger. She needed Ron, and she'd never meant to hurt Ron, and she really couldn't be brought to believe that she'd done anything wrong. Oliver and the tattoo were none of Ron's business, and Ron had no right to jump to conclusions. Snape… well, it wasn't like she'd been cheating. It was just something she'd thought was necessary to freak Draco out. But Ron wouldn't even listen. He didn't care that she needed him, that she was trying to cope with Draco and help Harry through this vision thing… in fact, when had he ever given her needs a second thought?

"Fine, Ron!" Hermione shouted after him. "Go ahead! Leave!"

Ron paused with his hand on the doorknob and Hermione kept yelling. "I don't know what you want me to do, but if you won't even let me explain, then go! Stick your head back up your ass and wander around like the oblivious little git you are!"

Ron whirled back around to face her, his face and ears an ugly red. "We're going to get you," he spat. "Me _and_ the twins."

"Go ahead, you stupid prat!" she shrieked.

Ron's eyes widened and he took a step forward, raising his arms a little with his fingers curled as though the thought of strangling her was becoming irresistible. With some difficulty, he turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind him so hard that the room seemed to shake.

Hermione took a deep, shuddering breath… then turned away and Summoned her trunk to her side. She dug out her robes, her hands shaking with fury.

"Well, _that_ didn't go well," Harry mumbled, emerging from the bathroom.

"I'm gonna kick his ass," Hermione growled. "You know what, Harry? Ron doesn't deserve me. He's a Quidditch-obsessed, self-absorbed idiot—"

"Please, don't continue this list," Harry interrupted quickly. Then he frowned. "Hey! What's wrong with being Quidditch-obsessed?"

"I'll make him pay for this," Hermione went on, ignoring him. "Leaving me—and you!—alone to deal with Malfoy and visions… we're supposed to be a team, Harry, but no, I guess he wasn't in it for the friendship—"

"Hermione…"

"But he doesn't deserve me, Harry! I'm smart, I'm pretty, I can function in the wizarding _and_ Muggle worlds, I can speak three languages, I know more spells than half the school combined and _I can use the telephone!"_

"…You _realize_ you're raving, right?"

Hermione ignored him. "I'm going to get him… _we're_ going to get him… me and Harry, knock Ron out…" She finished assembling the day's outfit and started changing; Harry turned his back. "Who would know more about getting to Ron than his best friends? No one! Oh, and we'll have Ginny, that girl's quite scary sometimes… and we can blame it all on THE PRANK WAR!"

Hermione let out a distinctly evil laugh and Harry couldn't help but wonder, once again, at the strangeness of his life recently. He'd never exactly been normal, but he'd come to expect certain things—Snape was a prick, Hermione was sane, Ron was his friend, the twins weren't affronted by singing, Oliver was just a Quidditch-loving teacher and Draco stayed in his own common room, only coming out to make idle threats and bad insults. Now, since the beginning of the prank war, everything had changed.

_How did this tradition survive?_ Harry wondered, sitting on the edge of the bed wearily. _Did my parents and Sirius go through this? Was it this much of a freak show for the Marauders and my mum?_

He realized he'd stopped paying attention to Hermione when she leaped in front of him, fully dressed but with her uncombed bushy hair sticking out in all directions and a crazed expression on her face. "Come on, Harry! Get dressed! We have to plan our war!"

Harry couldn't help but grin at her. She looked so… so _adorable,_ like a little puppy that was delusional enough to think it was tough enough to take on the world.

"Right," Harry said. "You calm Malfoy down, I'll get dressed, then we'll plan the war on the way to finding Snape. We need his help."

"Excellent idea, Harry! He'll be a great asset in the prank war!"

Harry watched her as she tried to go smack some sense (literally) into Draco. So this was it—he was now destined to fight against his best friend and the Weasley twins with Hermione at his side, while seeking Snape's help for the visions and maybe enlisting him to pull a prank or two. While this should have made him feel quite unhappy, he suddenly could no longer be brought to care.

"Just another normal fun-filled day," he muttered, and went to go get dressed.


	33. Malfoy Go Boom

**Chapter Thirty-two**

_Malfoy Go Boom_

Oliver awoke with a splitting headache, leaden limbs and a severely dry throat. He immediately realized he was hung over, and badly so; however, he didn't have the vaguest idea why. His second insight was that wasn't in his bed; he appeared to be lying on carpet.

_Passed out on the floor again,_ Oliver thought, unconcerned. _Gotta stop getting drunk with the team after every win…_

Just before he fell back asleep, he remembered that he hadn't been on the team in several months, and that he was now a Hogwarts professor. Awakening quite quickly, he jerked into a sitting position and promptly clunked his head on something.

"OW!" Looking around groggily, he realized that he was, in fact, under a desk, and it didn't appear to be his. He couldn't see much from where he was, other than the fact that he was covered in large purple-red stains and wearing rumpled clothes. Nervously, he climbed out from under the desk and glanced around for any other signs of life.

He was alone… and he was apparently in McGonagall's office. He couldn't remember why, though. Thinking hard, he struggled to recall the previous day, but could only bring to mind a few funny moments on the Quidditch pitch with Hermione and the Slytherin team… so how had he ended up passed out beneath McGonagall's desk?

Sighing, Oliver headed for the door. Hopefully, McGonagall would know.

* * *

"I'm serious," Ginny insisted. "Snape, McGonagall and Oliver weren't doing it for Hermione! They would never do that. Besides, they've all been acting funny. Do you have any idea what they did to _me _yesterday?"

Fred and George gazed back at her stonily, arms folded across their chests. Ginny sighed, knowing it was a lost cause, but also knowing that she couldn't give up just yet. Her brothers were a force to be reckoned with; they were smart and they had a twisted outlook on the world that gave them few inhibitions. If they got into it with Hermione, the prank war would be renamed as the Weasley-Granger War, and before long, people would be running for their lives and the castle would have to be evacuated.

Ginny opened her mouth, praying she could talk some sense into them in case Harry failed to get through to Ron—but before she could say another word, Ron burst through the door and her stomach dropped. He looked ready to murder someone. He turned and glared at her, in much the same way as the twins.

"Get out, Gin," Ron said coldly.

Narrowing her eyes, Ginny stalked out, then paused on the stairs. She couldn't let this go; if Fred, George and Ron didn't listen to reason, and fast, she was going to be screwed, and so were Hermione and Harry. She turned back around, but the boys had already shut the door.

She reached for the knob, but her hand couldn't seem to make contact with the door; an invisible barrier was surrounding it. An Imperturbable Charm.

Ginny knew a way to break through the charm, at least temporarily, but it was tricky; if she didn't open the door and make it in before the charm re-strengthened, she'd be blasted backwards and probably knocked down the stairs and seriously injured. Her hovering hand just above the knob, she prepared to open the door and run, then cast the counter-spell.

"—time to call in the big guns," George was saying as the door creaked open.

"Who's that?" Ron asked, and Ginny stopped, knowing this was far more important than getting them to listen to reason. She withdrew her hand from the knob and waited.

"Peeves," the twins said in unison; Ginny could practically see their mischievous grins.

The charm resealed, but Ginny didn't care. Peeves could take out an entire city with sheer annoyance. If they were enlisting him, Fred, George and Ron weren't going to listen to reason any time soon, so Harry and Hermione would have to. Without a second thought, she turned and dashed back down the stairs.

* * *

It took quite some time to get Draco to stop screaming, but once he had, he was ready to go see Snape almost immediately. The dream had scared the crap out of him (especially given his bizarre behavior on the Quidditch pitch), and waking up with Harry curled up on him had been the last straw. He didn't care if the dreams or visions would be useful; he just wanted them gone.

Waking up so early had been somewhat advantageous; they now had plenty of time to get to Snape before breakfast. After a quick glance at the Marauder's Map to make sure Snape was already in his office, they headed out, ignoring all questions thrown at them from the Gryffindors who'd been rudely awakened by their screaming. Harry, Hermione and Draco marched straight for the dungeons, all of them determined—Harry and Draco determined to force Snape to tell them how to fix the visions, and Hermione to recruit him. Within a few moments of leaving the dormitory, the unlikely trio was pounding on Snape's door, and he called for them to enter.

Hermione walked in first, followed quickly by Harry and Draco, both of whom recoiled slightly. Snape was wearing a bright, pumpkin-orange sweater beneath his robes, but thankfully, they could only see his collar; his robes were closed, which made him look slightly more like his old self. His hair was tied back, however, which looked quite strange; far more of his face was visible, and it was too difficult to tell if his hair was greasy or not. He looked much younger somehow, in the same way Sirius had a tendency to do when he was happy.

"Ah, hello!" Snape said cheerfully, which sent an involuntary shudder through the three students; there was no getting used to his happy side. "What can I do for you?"

"We need your help," Hermione said—and then promptly burst into tears.

Snape and Harry stared at her, at a loss for words, and Draco edged farther away from her, disgusted. "What's wrong?" Harry asked, tentatively taking a step forward and wondering how best to comfort her.

"Ron hates me," she sobbed. "The twins are gonna torture me to death! _I'm chained to Malfoy!_ Isn't that _enough?"_

Hermione started to say something else but her hysterical sobs prevented it. Taking pity on her, Harry awkwardly put his arms around her and let Hermione sob against his chest.

"It'll be okay, Hermione," Harry said soothingly, trying to stroke her hair and getting his fingers caught; she'd forgotten to brush it. He settled for rubbing her back instead.

"No—sob—it won't! Why did Malfoy have to pick—sob—ME? He's supposed to hate YOU! You or Ron! Why _me!"_

"Because he's a git," Harry said, glaring at Draco, who was mimicking Hermione behind her back in a most unflattering way.

"HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN A GIT TO _YOU!"_ she shrieked, whacking her fist against his chest hard enough that Harry winced.

"Wellll… the prank wouldn't have worked if it were me," Harry said, racking his brains for something comforting to say.

"And he's just prejudiced because you're Muggle-born," Snape said helpfully.

"I can't help that!" she screamed. "And there's hundreds of other Muggle-borns in Hogwarts! Why couldn't he have done it to one of _them?"_

"Come on, Hermione, look on the bright side," Harry said. "You've done loads of things to get him back, haven't you? You made him think you and Snape were an item—" Hermione let out an even louder sob and Harry hastily continued— "you tied him to the goalpost—"

"He got me back," she choked out.

"Yes, but his response sucked."

She looked up at him hopefully. "Really?"

"Yeah. Totally. I mean, no one even saw it. And we got him back REALLY good for that… we've been kicking his butt since day one."

"You _did_ make him puke," Snape pointed out. "And tormented him in quite a few other ways."

Hermione sniffled, looking a tad better… which lasted for all of three seconds before she broke down again. "But what about RON!" she howled, sobbing again.

"He'll come around, honest—"

"Don't say that _evil word!"_

"Right, yeah… he'll get over it. He will. I mean, it isn't anything major, and… he'll… get over Snape… and…"

"You're pathetic at comforting people, Potter," Snape said dryly as Hermione cried harder at the mention of Ron's reasons to be angry.

"And I suppose you could do better, you—" Harry began hotly, then paused. "What is that in your hair?"

"What?" Snape reached up to brush his hand over the top of his hair, but Harry was staring at his ponytail—which was held with a pink ribbon, tied in—

"A bow? Is that a BOW?" Harry exclaimed incredulously.

Draco looked over; even Hermione stopped crying momentarily and turned around to see. "Oh, yes, it is," Snape said with a shrug. "I didn't have anything to tie my hair back with, and one of the Hufflepuffs had put it around her essay scroll from last weeks' homework—"

"What is WRONG with you?" Draco shouted so suddenly that everyone jumped. He marched forward, seized Snape by the shoulders, and began to shake him. "You have a pink BOW in your hair! PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER, MAN!"

"St-t-top it!" Snape stuttered, going slightly cross-eyed as Draco continued to shake him.

"A bow," Harry mumbled, shaking his head. "What next?"

"We've driven Snape to madness!" Hermione yelled, crying once more, twice as hard. "Never get into Ministry… job applications say 'drove teacher to pink bows!'… we're doomed… whole lives ruined… and I'll never marry _Ron!"_

"WILL YOU STOP CRYING?" Draco roared.

"There, there, Granger… it's okay…"

"Snape is wearing a bow," Harry moaned, pressing his palms against his eyes as if to bore the image out.

Snape put his arm around Hermione's shoulder. "Don't worry, Granger… you've just got to think like a Slytherin. Channel all that anger into mean, hateful vengeance!"

"So says the guy with the bow," Draco growled.

"This is all Malfoy's fault," Hermione whined.

"Got that right," Harry muttered.

"Come now, we'll find a way to fix it. In no time, you'll have your boyfriend back and you'll graduate and you'll get a good job and get married and have three-point-seven kids and a dog—"

"What is going _on_ in here?"

Everyone looked around; McGonagall, looking a little tired and pale but otherwise normal, had appeared in the doorway. Her eyes swept over the tearful Hermione, the compassionate Snape with his pink-bow ponytail, the weary Harry and the furious Draco. "Never mind," McGonagall said, shaking her head. "I don't want to know. Severus, Wood showed up in my chambers confused and looking like he got hit by a truck; he needs a good strong potion. You three, you're to make up your Charms exam right after breakfast and your Transfiguration exam after dinner—"

"Did I drive you crazy too?" Hermione interrupted softly.

"What?" McGonagall frowned at her.

"Did I drive you insane? Are you going to start wearing pink bows in your hair and whistling while you work? Are you going to give me a bad reference when I apply for jobs? I'M SO SORRY!" Hermione wailed, and burst into sobs again.

"She's a little upset right now," Snape told McGonagall apologetically.

"Gee, do you think?" Harry muttered.

"Granger! Pull yourself together! I've got bigger problems!" Draco snapped. "I can't get you out of my head and all you can do is stand there and—"

"She's in your head?" Snape cut in, grinning and looking at McGonagall, who snorted a little as she tried to suppress a laugh.

"I've driven Malfoy mad too!"

"Hermione, that's a good thing," Harry said in exasperation.

"All my fault… Snape… never should have… _hickeys!_ Oh, gross!" Hermione threw herself into an armchair in front of Snape's desk to cry. No one was paying much attention to Hermione at the moment, save Harry; which was a good thing, because Draco would have taken the opportunity to gloat over Hermione's admission and McGonagall would have been horrified and demanded an explanation. Hermione began rambling through her tears about everything from rabbits to beef stew, very little of which made any sort of sense.

Draco rolled his eyes and turned to his professors. "How do I stop the visions, Professor?" he asked Snape wearily. "I can't keep having them."

"You're going to have to, I'm afraid," Snape said with a slight smile. "They won't go away."

"What do you mean, they won't go away?" Draco demanded, panic rising within him. "They HAVE to go away. I can't keep having visions about _Granger;_ it's sickening!"

"If I knew how to stop them, I would tell you," Snape said, perfectly straight-faced but somehow unable to seem sincere.

"You… you… what about that thing Potter did when the Dark Lord was around? Occlu… Occoo… Ock-you-la-men—"

"Occlumency," McGonagall interrupted, looking as though she was trying desperately not to laugh, "is only for psychic attacks. If someone were trying to attack your mental—"

"Someone is! The cheese spirit! He's attacking my brain!" Draco tapped his fingers against his forehead sharply and nodded, his eyes wide; he looked rather creepy and insane.

"No," Snape said, his face twitching like mad as he tried to hold back his mirth, "the visions aren't an attack. You can no more stop them than a seer can stop themselves from—"

"I HAVE TO STOP THEM!" Draco screeched. "Teach me Ock-you-la-men-see; I have to try something! Look at me! I'm chained to Granger! I WOKE UP IN BED WITH POTTER!"

Draco stamped his foot repeatedly, looking close to tears himself. Snape and McGonagall were both staring at him in a shocked and mortified sort of way, and it suddenly occurred to Draco how that last part had sounded. Indignant, furious, and absolutely powerless to do anything about it, Draco let out a small scream. "Oh, OCK-YOU BOTH!" he yelled, and started to storm away, only to land flat on his back; he'd forgotten the chain and completely lost his balance when it had been pulled taut.

There was silence for a few moments, other than Hermione's sobs. Harry, who had been trying to cheer her up all this time, figured the Draco's sudden fall was as good a thing as any to use in lifting Hermione's spirits. In the same soothing, talking-to-scared-children voice he'd been using for quite some time, Harry shook Hermione gently and said, "Look, Hermione! Malfoy go boom!"

He wasn't sure why he'd said that; it was just the first thing that had come out. The strange phrasing got Hermione to look up, and when she saw Draco lying on the ground, glaring up at the ceiling, his pale face turning an unnatural Ron-like red, she let out a small giggle through her tears and smiled.

This appeared to push poor Draco off the edge.

"RRRRAAAAWWWWGGGG!!" he roared, leaping to his feet so suddenly that everyone instinctively jumped back and began fumbling for their wands. Before anyone could gather their wits, Draco dove at Harry with his hands outstretched.

It wasn't really the best of moves; he didn't punch, or kick, or start strangling or anything else directly painful. He did, however, hit Harry like a freight train and keep going; Harry and Draco soon hit Snape's desk and toppled right over the back of it, kicking several jars of pickled specimens down on top of themselves. Hermione was yanked forward and into the desk so hard she screamed; McGonagall rushed forward to tend to her while Snape ran around to the back of the desk, trying to break up the fight.

"Are you all right?" McGonagall asked Hermione worriedly. Hermione nodded weakly, clutching her stomach with her chain-free hand. McGonagall rushed around to the side of the desk, drawing her wand. _"Stupefy!"_ she called, aiming as best she could for Draco, who had lost all sense of reason and was swinging madly at Harry.

Unfortunately, Snape, who hadn't seen McGonagall come over, had moved right into her path while attempting to pull the two boys apart. A jet of red light hit Snape squarely in the back and he keeled over, landing in a heap next to Draco and Harry.

"Oh, damn," McGonagall muttered, taking aim again.

"Did you just swear?" Hermione demanded shrilly.

"Granger, now isn't the—" McGonagall began, but Hermione cut her off.

"You're not supposed to SWEAR!" Hermione cried, a look of intense anguish on her face. "You're a TEACHER! The BEST teacher! I'VE DRIVEN YOU MAD TOO! AND IT'S MALFOY'S FAULT!"

And before McGonagall could stop her, Hermione dove at Draco.

* * *

Somewhere between Gryffindor tower and the fourth floor, Ginny's worry had developed into panic. Harry, Hermione and Draco had left their room, and they had no clue that Fred, George, Ron and Peeves were now out to get them. Ginny had to find them; she'd been running flat-out for quite some time, checking all the places she could think of where the three of them might have gone.

Whenever Fred and George had told her about some prank they'd pulled, Ginny had always found herself thinking, "I'm so glad I'm their sister, and they'd never do anything _really_ horrible to me." Now, however, it seemed all bets were off. The twins had just become official players in the prank war, and she knew that now that it was _them,_ now that it was personal, everyone who wasn't behind them was going down. The pranks would be a hell of a lot worse than anything they would have suggested to Ron and Harry. Ginny had to talk some sense into Harry and Hermione before they all ended up as long-term St. Mungo's residents.

"I _really_ can't keep doing this," Ginny muttered, realizing her nerves were completely shot. She hadn't slept right in a good long while, she was constantly annoyed by people looking for gossip, she still felt a little nauseated from watching Harry puke, and she was still quite worried about whatever was going on with the lemon drop thing. If there was one wizard on the planet you really didn't want mad at you, it was Dumbledore. Ginny's frazzled mind had long since given up on any logical explanation—those no longer seemed to exist in Hogwarts anymore—and now had practically convinced herself that Dumbledore had just gone off his rocker and decided to kill anyone who ever ate a nasty lemon drop. Her only chance of not getting into trouble, or worse, was to stay far away from Snape, McGonagall and Wood—in fact, she was considering hiding quite soon, once she dealt with the prank war mess.

She had now looked just about everywhere she could think of for Harry and Hermione, and had just reached the entrance hall and turned towards the kitchens when she heard a loud scream of rage come from the dungeon's entrance.

Draco.

Ginny turned towards the dungeons and ran down the steps without a second thought, simply following the sounds of Draco, Harry and Hermione's yells, not realizing where she was going.

If she had, she might have remembered that the only place down here that Harry, Hermione and Draco might be was Snape's office… and that it was also the last place she wanted to see.

* * *

"GRANGER!" McGonagall shrieked—not only out of shock and disapproval, but out of horror; Hermione had knocked McGonagall's wand right out of her hand as she'd jumped on Draco. The wand flew back towards the doorway but McGonagall lost sight of it; knowing she couldn't handle the three teens without it, McGonagall hurried to the wand's last known coordinates and began to search for it desperately.

"DIE YOU EVIL SCUM!" Hermione roared, leaping on Draco's back in classic piggy-back style, her legs wrapping around his waist to hold herself on while she smacked him repeatedly on the head with one hand, the other hand using his hair as a handhold.

"ARGH! GET OFF!"

"TAKE THAT!"

Harry, who had been knocked to the ground right before Hermione's sneak attack, leaped up and prepared to deck Draco but good; Draco, in danger of losing his balance thanks to Hermione, did the only thing he could think to do and swung round so that Hermione was between him and Harry. The momentum proved too much for him, however, and he fell backwards into Harry.

The three of them smashed into one of the shelves containing jars of preserved creatures and potions specimens; several jars were knocked loose. Suddenly, everyone was screaming and it was raining glass and liquid and squishy things better left unnamed and still the fists and feet flew. Once the majority of the sickening shower had stopped, Draco took his hands away from his face and pried Hermione off him, then tried to run. He was almost to the door when the chain, forgotten once more, snapped him back again; this time he landed on his face, and before he could recover from the harsh introduction to the stone floor, Hermione was on him.

Next there was a civil war of sorts between Harry and Hermione that helped Draco quite a bit; Harry tried to push Hermione away to get at Draco, and Hermione, refusing to give up her claim in the fight, tried to shove Harry away. They got into a strange sort of pushing match; Harry didn't want to hurt Hermione, and she didn't want to hurt him, but neither Harry nor Hermione was willing to surrender pummeling rights on Draco. Draco managed to slither away and get to his feet. Now, however, he remembered the chain, and knew there was no way out. Before he could figure out what to do, Harry and Hermione noticed his absence from the floor and got up; jumping away from them, Draco saw McGonagall reclaim her wand out of the corner of his eye and finally remembered he was a wizard.

Harry and Hermione had their wands out at almost the same instant as Draco; all three raised them, Hermione's starting a complex wave; they each began to shout an incantation—

—and then Ginny appeared seemingly out of nowhere in between the three of them, shouting "PEEVES IS COMING!"

They say that the best way to get someone's attention is to startle them, and there are few things more startling than a short, frantic redheaded girl popping up practically out of thin air and shouting that a poltergeist is coming to get you.

_"What?"_ Harry, Hermione, and Draco asked in unison, but Ginny couldn't answer at first, too out of breath from running.

"Peeves… twins… kick… ass… we… dead… must… not…" Ginny stopped trying to speak, straightening up slightly and looking around. She swallowed, taking a few steadying breaths before whipping her head round to stare at Harry and Hermione with wide eyes. "We're in Snape's office."

"Yes, and we're in the middle of a duel," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "Could you move?"

"WHAT IF IT WAS _TRUE?_ ARE YOU MAD? DUMBLEDORE'S COMING TO KILL US ALL!" Poor, sleep-deprived, panicky Ginny looked ready to faint.

"What are you babbling about, Weasley?" McGonagall asked.

At the sound of the professor's voice, Ginny yelped, spun, and backed away, farther from the door, over by Snape's desk. "K-k-keep away from me, y-you lemon drop thief! I have enough problems!"

"Obviously," Draco muttered, lowering his wand and calming slightly, now that he got to see a Weasley having a bad day (which was always a good thing for him). He gingerly touched the swollen, bloody area surrounding his left eye; the swelling was starting to obscure his vision already.

"Calm down, Gin," Harry said automatically; he was getting quite used to comforting people.

"Weasley—about yesterday—" McGonagall began, looking rather embarrassed.

Ginny cocked her head to the side, looking a tad calmer, as though she was starting to get a grip—and she might have continued to do so had Snape not suddenly leaped to his feet right next to Ginny and shouted, "I'm okay! I'm okay! Don't worry, I'll stop them!"

Before Snape could sort out the fact that he'd just been Stunned and had missed most of the fight, Ginny snapped; the sudden appearance of Snape so close by proved to be too much for her nerves.

"GET AWAY!" she screamed, and ran flat-out for the door. The next thing anyone knew, she had bounced off of something and landed on her butt. Harry and Hermione both went to help her, but didn't reach her before she looked up to see what had stopped her—Oliver Wood.

"Sorry about that, Ginny," he said pleasantly, extending a hand to help her up.

"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Ginny's bloodcurdling scream made them all wince, none so much as the hung over Oliver, who grabbed his pounding head and groaned. Ginny shoved him to the side and ran past him, screaming all the way.

Oliver, who had no idea what was upsetting her (his memories of his drunken escapades were still foggy), stared after her in disbelief. "What did I do?" he asked, turning back to survey the room… which was in shambles. Dozens of shattered jars and their grotesque former contents littered the floor. Snape was looking somewhat disgruntled, and his hair was coming loose from the pink bow. McGonagall stood wearily in the corner, her wand held loosely at her side. Harry, Hermione and Draco were all covered in cuts and bruises and slimy liquid.

"Do you guys ever _not_ have drama?" Oliver asked with a sort of disgusted awe. "Have you ever had a drama-free day, or even a drama-free twenty minutes?"

"No," Harry and Hermione said flatly in unison.

Oliver sighed. "What happened to Ginny?"

"Er… never mind that!" McGonagall said quickly. "You three… better get to the hospital wing… fifty points from Slytherin and Gryffindor… yes, hospital, go, you're bleeding all over the place…"

The three of them filed out, all of them now subdued from their injuries, the abrupt recession of adrenaline, and life in general. Oliver shook his head, noting the trail of slime, blood and glass they were leaving behind. He could still hear Ginny screaming in the distance; wincing at the echoing noise, he pulled the door shut.

* * *

_Author's Notes:_ A reminder, whatever happened in the sixth book—and whatever _will_ happen in the seventh—will NOT apply in this story. AT ALL. Draco being a Death Eater, Draco knowing Occlumency, Snape being a half-blood, etc. I only use things we learned up through OotP.

And unfortunately—once again I am being plagiarized. "The Prank War" has been posted on MediaMiner under a name that isn't mine, and "They Woke Up Married!" by Anapplefromatree on this site has stolen a huge chunk of my dialogue from the second chapter of "We Woke Up Married." Please, if you ever see my stories posted under a name that is not "CrazyGirl47," or something with "Rain" or "47" in the title, please let let me know.

Finally, on a good note—I've finished the revision and am working my way through chapter 44, meaning that I have one completely brand new chapter ready, called "Oliver's Last Stand." I just have to format the chapters for this site and get a little light editing done, but I'll be throwing out chapters left and right here soon. Once I finish reading the seventh book, naturally.


	34. Draco, The Britney Fan

**Chapter Thirty-three**

_Draco, the Britney Fan_

After a relatively short visit to the hospital wing, during which Madam Pomfrey made about six threats along the lines of "If Dumbledore even _thinks _about failing any of you, I swear I'll quit!" Harry, Hermione and Draco headed down to the kitchens wordlessly. The entire school had to know by now that Harry and Draco had woken up screaming, and there were all sorts of other things they couldn't or didn't want to explain—the single, large bed; the Slytherin Quidditch practice; the Cheese Spirit and its banishment; Hermione's attempt on Draco's arm's life… and that was only what had happened since yesterday morning, never mind Sunday, Saturday, and Friday. On an average day, each of them could handle teasing and gossip and rude remarks; at the moment, none of them wanted to face any further annoyances.

Unfortunately, "you can't always get what you want" is a very wise saying. Filch came out of the kitchens just as they were approaching the door.

"What are you three doing down here?" he demanded, glaring.

"Nothing," Harry and Hermione replied. Filch raised a skeptical eyebrow; he knew as well as Harry and Hermione did that the Hufflepuff dormitory and the kitchens were the only things in this part of the school that were of any interest.

Draco rolled his eyes; for two Gryffindor brats who often managed to escape punishment for broken rules, they weren't very good at lying to authority figures. "We were just taking a walk," Draco said coldly. "Not illegal, is it?"

"You were preparing to pull some sort of prank, weren't you?" Filch snapped, eyes darting around as if hoping to find some sort of joke-pulling device.

"Right," Draco said, rolling his eyes again. "Me and Potter and Granger work so well together, don't you think?"

Harry laughed and Hermione giggled; it didn't last long, however, as their mirth quickly changed to mortification at the fact that one of their least favorite people could make them laugh in a way that wasn't condescending.

Filch looked as surprised by their laughter as they did, and he edged away from them slightly. "You should be at breakfast. Go on, go," he said, gesturing up the stairs behind them.

Harry and Hermione exchanged panicky glances. "Mr. Filch," Hermione said quickly, "I am Head Girl, and it is my duty to patrol the corridors—"

"There is no morning duty, only night; you only have Wednesdays and Thursdays, besides. Go on, off to breakfast with you, and if I catch you down here again, you'll have detention to look forward to."

After a few moments, Harry and Hermione grudgingly turned around and headed back for the stairs; Draco glared at caretaker, but couldn't see a way to get past Filch without getting into serious trouble—and it wouldn't be prudent to let anyone on the staff know that the kitchens' location wasn't totally secret.

"More than one way to skin a cat, you know," Draco told Filch (who snarled but still looked a tad worried), then followed Harry and Hermione, leaving the caretaker to splutter angrily outside the kitchen door.

"So I guess we're skipping breakfast," Harry said.

Hermione bit her lip. "Maybe we can get Ginny to go in there for us?"

"I don't think so. She seemed pretty… er…"

"Psycho," Draco supplied helpfully. He had always been rather talkative—it was part of being arrogant and loving to brag a lot—and now that the sullen silence had been broken, he figured a bit of arguing and insulting banter was just what he needed.

"Well, I doubt she's going to be any more willing to go in there than we are," Harry said, trying to ignore Draco as best he could.

Hermione sighed. "Well, what are we supposed to do? Curse anyone who gets within three feet of us?" Harry paused, looking thoughtful, then drew his wand and grinned. "Harry, I was kidding—"

"Yeah, but no one else'll know that, and I'm hungry."

Harry walked on ahead, and Hermione sighed and followed him, drawing her wand also. _"Boys,"_ she muttered, "never thinking with their brains…"

Draco was still trying to come up with a good pun about the double meanings of her phrase when they entered the Great Hall. A good deal of the student body was there, chatting away; a lot of Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor students were at the wrong table, sharing gossip or perhaps discussing prank war ideas. Even some of the Slytherins were mixing with a few of the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students; it was rare, but the occasional Slytherin had friends or at least acquaintances outside their house. Plenty of people spotted Harry, Hermione and Draco entering, but everyone hung back when they noticed their wands were out.

Managing to secure a good spot at the Gryffindor table, they were only interrupted once, by Colin Creevey, who asked if there was any reason for Ginny being in the hospital wing, seeming quite ill and rather jumpy. Neither Harry nor Hermione told him much, and when Draco opened his mouth he received two sharp kicks in the shins and he thought better of it. Madam Pomfrey had cured most of his bruises, and he wasn't really looking to get himself injured again.

Harry, Hermione and Draco all ate with their wands in one hand, which wasn't easy. When Harry dropped his wand beside his plate, neither Hermione nor Draco thought much of it; Hermione figured he was just having trouble using his silverware one-handed, and Draco simply didn't care. It wasn't until Harry gasped that they noticed he'd gone completely rigid.

"He's having a vision," Draco muttered.

Harry was, in fact, having a vision, but he couldn't make sense of it in the slightest. Draco appeared to be wearing Muggle clothes and sitting in the passenger seat of a car, wearing his seat belt; Harry could see snow-covered trees were flashing past. That alone was odd; the Malfoys despised Muggle things, so, unlike the Weasleys, they'd probably never ridden in a car. That wasn't the strangest part, however.

Draco was singing.

His arms were flung wide, his hair was messy, and he looked rather frightened, as though he was being forced to sing at gunpoint. His singing voice wasn't all that great; either that or he wasn't trying to sing properly. His voice seemed all wrong for the notes he was trying to hit, too. Harry barely noticed, however; he was concentrating on the lyrics.

The vision ended quite abruptly, and Harry returned to the present with a jolt. Confused, Harry tried to sort out the vision, glad it hadn't been about him, Hermione and Draco. Harry recognized those lyrics, but he couldn't remember from where; he hadn't really been paying attention to the Weird Sisters at the Yule Ball, and that was the only band he'd heard in the wizarding world… so it had to be Muggle, and probably old…

Something clicked into place and it hit him—Britney Spears. He'd heard that song several times, heard sung by Muggles as he wandered around Little Whinging, heard playing in shops he went to with the Dursleys or walked to alone. Draco had been singing Britney Spears songs? That made absolutely no sense…

"What was it?" Draco asked impatiently.

"It was you. Singing. Britney Spears."

Hermione stared at Draco incredulously. "You know Britney Spears?"

"Who's she?" Draco asked blankly.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Don't play dumb. You obviously know who she is. I just had a vision of you singing 'Hit Me One More Time.'"

"Sounds like a nice violent song," Draco replied, frowning.

"'Baby One More Time,'" Hermione corrected absently.

"You're a Britney Spears fan?" Harry asked incredulously.

"No, I—that's not important! Harry, what on earth would Malfoy be doing singing Britney Spears songs? What else do you remember?"

"I don't know," Harry said, shrugging. "He was sitting in a car, passenger's side."

"A car? I've never ridden in a car. Why would I start now?"

"Well, you looked scared, but—"

"Okay, now I _know _you're lying," Draco interrupted irritably. "Come on, people, open your eyes. Doesn't it strike you as a little odd that these 'visions' are things that we would never do, and the only person who knows the truth about them is a guy like _Snape?_ They're _not_ visions. They're _illusions."_

"That's an interesting thought," Hermione said slowly. "False visions…"

"Oh, come on, Hermione; that was reasoned out by _Malfoy_," Harry pointed out.

"But it does make sense," Hermione said reluctantly. "A lot more sense than anything else."

"Nothing has made sense lately," Harry insisted.

"No… and that's what's bothering me. Think of it, Harry—which makes more sense, a cheese spirit bite causing psychic abilities, or a cheese spirit bite causing delusions? And Snape… he's the only one who knows what's _really_ going on, and if it weren't for the fact that Snape's not the most imaginative person and certainly not the first person to purposely set himself up to get insulted, I'd bet every Galleon I have on him fabricating this whole happy bit. It's certainly freaking us out, which Snape would enjoy—it's freaking the entire school out, really—and you and Malfoy thinking that whatever you've been Seeing is actually real would be just the sort of kicks Snape would enjoy."

"Only Snape doesn't like kicks, and even for a prank, he wouldn't tie a pink ribbon in his hair in a bow or wear a Christmas sweater or tell us some funny story about what he did as a kid—"

"Who's to say that was a true story?" Draco said suddenly. "I mean, his whole mannerism yesterday freaked us all out—and Snape's smart. He could have figured out what I would do, could have made the whole thing up. He wouldn't have admitted having a crush on Potter's mum otherwise."

"I've had a little too much experience with visions to just write these off," Harry said stubbornly, wincing at the part about his mother. "We need to talk to Snape more."

Hermione sighed. "Look, Harry, maybe you're right, we shouldn't just ignore them. Still, I can't imagine that they're true, not if they're as bizarre as you say… but Snape _has_ been helping us, you know; he knew when he gave us all those ideas that it would help you as much as me—"

"He can't be trusted," Draco said flatly. "It doesn't matter what he's done to help you, Granger; it's probably all just a means to an end for him."

"Whose side are you on, anyway?" Hermione demanded.

"Not yours," Draco said shortly. He jerked his head at Harry. "Or his."

Hermione blinked, suddenly remembering who she was talking to; their discussion was just the sort of thing Harry, Ron and Hermione did all the time. She shrugged off the creepy feelings of actually trying to figure something out with Draco Malfoy helping them in Ron's stead as best she could and turned back to Harry. "I don't know if these visions are true or not—mostly because I don't know what most of them _are_—and I don't know what Snape's really up to—"

"He told me there was no way to stop the visions, back while you were sobbing your heart out like a lunatic," Draco interrupted. "I'm pretty sure he's lying."

"There's no way to tell with someone that skilled in Occlumency," Hermione argued.

"Hey, I can do Occlumency, and you can still tell when I'm lying most of the time," Harry said.

"Stop switching sides!" Hermione yelled, stamping her foot.

"I'm not; I'm on the true-vision, Snape-is-a-sick-freak side," Harry retorted.

"Look, whether he knows or not, he can't be trusted," Draco said. "There has to be some other way, a spell to check the validity of a prophecy or something…"

"If only the twins were on our side," Hermione said with a sigh. "All those years of looking for joke shop junk has made them great at researching."

"What, _you_ don't want to spend time in the library?" Draco snorted. "That's a first."

"Look, you evil little maggot," Hermione snapped, "if you want those visions out of your head, you'll keep your mouth shut. Harry and I have been solving these sorts of mysteries for over six years; I guarantee you we can do it. If you want help, you had better avoid pissing me off, or I'll make you beg for mercy by the time I'm through with you, understand?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "All right, fine. You get the visions out of my head; I'll leave you alone until the chain's off."

"Good," Hermione said, but sighed. She knew that it wasn't going to last for more than a minute and a half, but even a momentary lull was better than putting up with his constant rudeness.

* * *

"—Forbidden Forest—"

"—Best idea—"

"—Not too far in—"

"—Need people to be able to see it—"

"—Can't do it during exams—"

"—Last weekend before Christmas holidays—"

"—Everyone will be in Hogsmeade but the first and second years—"

"—So we convince people to stay—"

"—That'll tip off our victims, too—"

"—Right, don't want them to know—"

"—Leave Harry out of it, just Hermione and Malfoy—"

"—Yeah, they'll know it's us if we hit all three of them—"

"—But that's a prank only we know about."

"No, it isn't, plenty of people had parents who went here during the original prank—"

"Maybe, but parents who share their prank ideas with their kids?"

Ron sat on his bed in his dormitory, eating sandwiches that Fred had conjured and watching the twins with interest. They were pacing up and down the room, shooting rapid-fire ideas at each other… at least, that's what he assumed they were doing; he didn't have the foggiest clue what they were talking about.

"Slytherins would. People like the Bones family would. Dad would."

"Hey, we should talk to Dad!"

"No, too risky, Mum might find out what we're up to—"

"Shoot, we should have thought of that earlier—"

"—Yeah, damn, that could have been so useful—"

"—Well, if we need more ideas after this prank, we can do some of what we did our seventh year—"

"—No, too suspicious, and they've all been seen before—"

"—Everyone was so focused on the Umbridge thing, though—"

"—Nasty old bat, hope she's in St. Mungo's—"

"—Hope the centaurs came after her—"

"—Hope Peeves beat her to death with McGonagall's walking stick!"

"…We're getting sidetracked."

"Damn… okay, so we strike with this prank—"

"—But we don't want her to know—"

"—She's the only one we'll need to worry about really—"

"—Yeah, Harry's bright, but he assumes the best about people—"

"—Hermione's only delusional about teachers—"

"—Hey, maybe we should talk to Wood!"

"The next time I talk to Wood, I'm beating the crap out of him."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot. But then, he _had_ to be drunk."

"Or maybe high."

"Whatever he was on, we should get some."

"He's probably still got some. On second thought, why hold a grudge?"

"Excellent point. …And we're sidetracked again."

"Right. Okay, main problem—getting Harry away from Hermione."

"We can try using Ron."

"How? Have him try snogging Hermione in a broom closet?"

"Why not? Harry won't stick around for that. They're not THAT close."

"She's chained to Malfoy's wrist, mate."

"Oh, yeah."

"Yeah, she's probably won't get it on with Malfoy watching." Ron started gagging on his sandwich.

"Fred, you've just given me nightmares."

"Right, sorry. Anyway… there has to be some time when they split up, right?"

"We need to figure out their class schedules—"

"—She said something about it when we went down to Hagrid's hut right before that food fight—"

"—Oh, yeah! She has Ancient Runes on Thursday afternoons and Muggle Studies on Fridays—"

"—So we kidnap her right after lunch—"

"—No, if we kidnap her when she's supposed to be somewhere, people will notice too fast—"

"—And if she misses an exam without there being a good explanation, someone will go to Dumbledore—"

"—And Dumbledore will probably think she's been kidnapped by renegade Death Eaters."

"And then we're screwed, and probably in Azkaban."

"—So we do it after class, before she finds Harry again—"

"—Not enough time to get her; hallways would be too crowded—"

"—So we need to get Harry out of the way."

"How, though?"

"Club him over the head?"

"Nah… We could lock him in a broom cupboard."

"Or inflate his head like he did to Malfoy."

"Wait! He's supposed to have detention for that—"

"—On Friday!"

Both twins halted their pacing and turned triumphant grins on Ron. "We strike on Friday!" they yelled in unison.

Ron arched an eyebrow at them. "We strike what?"

The twins looked at each other and sighed.


	35. The Truth about the Visions

**Chapter Thirty-four**

_**The Truth about the Visions**_

"So what, exactly, is going on?" Oliver asked, looking around the trashed office.

"Oh, the usual," McGonagall said dryly. "Potter, Granger and Malfoy had a fistfight. Something about driving each other mad. That was just before Weasley ran in, screaming like Paul Revere."

Snape grinned as he bent over to pick up a slimy green creature. "That was absolutely priceless—'Malfoy go boom!'" he mimicked.

McGonagall laughed. "I thought it was far better when Granger leaped at Malfoy. I've never seen her just starting beating someone like that."

"I missed that part," Snape said, repairing a jar with his wand and dropping the creature inside. The jar automatically began to fill with the same slimy liquid that now coated the floors. "Must have been when _somebody_ Stunned me."

"Terribly sorry about that, Severus," McGonagall said, trying not to laugh and failing.

Oliver shook his head, too weary to even think about sorting out this new bit of confusing information. "Minerva said you might have something for a hangover?" he asked Snape.

"Top drawer," Snape told him, pointing at the desk. "You'll find a bunch of bottles; you want the one that says 'You Knew Better than to Drink All That, Severus.'"

Oliver gave him an odd look and opened the top drawer; it was sectioned off into deep pockets, each big enough to hold about a dozen small flasks, and each section containing a different sort of potion. The bottles were all labeled with odd things like "You Know You Can't Handle Thai Food, You Idiot" and "What Would Be Better for Your Blood Pressure than an Anti-Stress Potion? Quitting Your Job." The handwriting didn't appear to be Snape's, which made the humor of the labeling seem a lot less strange.

"So you actually _did_ use that labeling device Filius gave you for your birthday," McGonagall remarked.

"Oh, be quiet," Snape mock-growled.

McGonagall chuckled, then grinned. "So… Mr. Malfoy's having visions of Granger, is he?"

"Interesting, isn't it?" Snape said with an evil grin.

"He's having WHAT of Hermione?" Oliver demanded.

"Oh, be quiet, Wood, and drink your potion," McGonagall said, and came over to sit in an armchair in front of Snape's desk, smiling like a teenager with a juicy piece of gossip. "Why do you think he was thinking of her during the spell?"

"Probably because she was trying to stop him," Snape said thoughtfully, "but I suppose there could be… other reasons."

"Oh, Potter will have a fit!" McGonagall said gleefully.

"He was bitten by Dorwi—er, the Cheese Spirit, too. I doubt he came all the way down here for Draco's benefit. He's probably got some sort of vision of her in his head, too. Or… if he was staring at Draco, wondering what Draco was doing…"

"No WONDER he's losing his mind!" McGonagall exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

"What are you two talking about?" Oliver asked, gulping his potion down quickly and watching them suspiciously.

"Potter, Granger and Malfoy," McGonagall said. "I can't recall if we explained yesterday or not, but… you see…"

"Yesterday, in my class, Draco unleashed a nasty sort of Cheese Spirit—"

"There's such a thing as a Cheese Spirit?"

"Oh, yes. Cheese Demon, actually, but that's not the point. Anyway, this Cheese Spirit is conjured up because of a botched love potion, a complex potion that, when used properly with the right sort of incantation, can force others to fall in love with you…"

"…Draco… _Malfoy?_ HE tried to brew a LOVE potion?"

"Yes, well, his motives had nothing to do with love, but again, not the point. As I was saying, when the spell is done properly, it will only work upon the person you visualize during the incantation—in this case, a love poem written by the castor—"

_"Malfoy_ wrote a—"

"Yes, Wood, he did! Stop interrupting! Anyway, when it goes wrong, the Cheese Spirit is called. If and only if it bites you, you'll end up having dreams about the person you were trying to cast upon and thinking about them far too much. You'll also become mildly psychic, but that's neither here nor there."

"Malfoy is _psychic?"_ Oliver repeated, understandably alarmed.

"Well, not really. Most of the times, the visions center almost exclusively around the person you were thinking of, and while the visions are accurate, they don't really make enough sense for you to understand them until they come true."

"…And what does this have to do with Hermione?" Oliver asked.

"Well, Draco said he wasn't visualizing anyone during the potion… but now he can't get Granger out of his head. So either he was thinking about her at the time because she was sitting next to him or trying to stop him—"

"Or he fancies Granger," McGonagall interrupted with a wicked grin.

"—and the same goes for Potter. He was probably thinking about Granger at the time, also… and possibly thinking about Granger AND Draco. So Potter would be having dreams about being in love with Granger, Draco or whoever, and having visions about their future—"

"—and dear little Malfoy can't stop thinking about Granger," McGonagall finished.

"It's sort of like karma. You try and infringe upon someone's free will, you messed with magic you weren't prepared to wield, and the Cheese Spirit turns it back upon your head," Snape explained. "The effects only last for about a week, but one would guess that's enough time to teach someone a lesson."

"Why a Cheese Spirit?" Oliver asked, frowning.

"Probably because whatever higher being came up with it had a twisted sense of humor," Snape said with a shrug.

"What caused this potion to go wrong, anyway?" McGonagall asked.

"Oddly enough, Muggle root beer."

"…Severus, you got this whole thing out of a book, no?" she said thoughtfully.

"Yes."

"How would the witch or wizard who wrote this book know about the ill effects of root beer on a love potion?"

"Actually, it's not about the root beer. It's the added herbs. Root beer has a lot of common potions ingredients in it. Certain herbs aren't meant to mix in certain cases, and this is one of them. The Cheese Spirit Phenomenon happens when too many herbs used in love magic go into the potion and negatively affect the rose petals. It was discovered almost twelve hundred years ago by the potions' creator's younger sister, who was attempting to help assure his success and added a few too many herbs. They're also the ones who came up with the banishing spell for the Cheese Spirit… of course, it took them five years of research and some sort of quest that led them to Thailand…"

"What on earth made you research all of this?" Oliver asked.

"Er… morbid curiosity," Snape said innocently, and went back to cleaning up his office.

"So," Oliver said a few minutes later, "when are you planning on telling Harry and Hermione the truth about the visions?"

"What do you mean?" Snape asked, looking surprised.

"When are you going to clue them in? Harry and Malfoy don't know what's really going on, right? They don't know that their dreams are false and that their thoughts are being influenced and that their visions…" Oliver trailed off and looked at McGonagall, hoping that if Snape wouldn't tell them, she would.

McGonagall and Snape grinned at each other in a purely mischievous way. "Oh, they'll figure it out," Snape said casually. "They're smart kids."

* * *

Harry, Hermione and Draco completed their walk to Flitwick's classroom in silence. Smiling, he ushered them in; Ron was already there, sitting in the far corner and writing furiously. He looked up when they entered… and surprisingly, he didn't glare. Neither Harry nor Hermione could read his expression at all before he went back to his writing. Harry and Hermione looked at each other curiously before accepting their exams from Flitwick and getting started.

All three of them did very well on the test; with the prank war going on, Charms was currently the most-studied subject in Hogwarts. (Draco wrote twice the required length on repeated phrase jinxes.) Ron finished only a few moments before them and left without a backwards glance. However, the moment they stepped outside the classroom, they found Ron waiting for them; he turned to Hermione with a nervous but hopeful look on his face.

"I'm sorry," he told her. "I really am. I… I didn't mean…"

Hermione, whose anger with Ron had been steadily replaced by sadness, smiled in relief and threw her arms around him; Draco yelped as he was jerked sideways. "It's okay," she said. "Don't worry about it."

Ron grinned, his relief matching Hermione's as he held her close. He looked up at Harry hesitantly. "Are we okay?" he asked uncertainly.

Harry grinned. "Of course we are."

"Good," Ron said, hugging Hermione tighter.

The next three days were some of the best Harry, Ron and Hermione had had since the start of the prank war. The three of them joked and laughed and studied together as though nothing had happened, and it almost seemed as if Draco wasn't there. The twins left Hogwarts, claiming that they'd left Lee in charge of the joke shop for far too long, though they forgave Harry and Hermione completely and promised to return on Friday to hang out. Ginny calmed down rather quickly, especially after learning that Ron and Hermione were no longer fighting and after Oliver went up to her and explained that whatever he'd said about lemon drops was just crazy talk and that Dumbledore was as nice as ever. Ginny now spent most of her time with Harry, Ron and Hermione; they studied together in the evenings and researched both the visions and the chain, although by Thursday they were less disturbed by the visions. After a long discussion, they'd all concluded that the visions were false after all (though Harry still remained somewhat skeptical), and since Snape had said it was temporary, they concentrated more on the chain and their end-of-term exams.

The amount of fighting seemed to suddenly plummet once Ron became their friend again; the Gryffindors found it far easier to ignore Draco. The only major fight was on Tuesday, regarding the beds; Hermione refused to push them apart, and Draco refused to sleep in the same bed as anyone else. In the end, Draco started sleeping on the couch, which they moved over right next to the bed. Ron now slept in Hermione's bed, though they both behaved themselves. Harry didn't mind this change in the least (which is an understatement; when he returned to his own dormitory, he threw himself on his four-poster and refused to get out of it for hours, despite the fact it was mid-evening).

By Thursday night, there had been thirteen more visions between Harry and Draco. Draco's visions were often harder to explain, as most of his centered around Hermione and sometimes Hermione appeared to be doing Muggle things. Between Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Draco, they'd only managed to vaguely comprehend two of his visions—one was of Hermione crying and rambling that they were hopelessly lost, and one was of her and Draco lying together in what looked like a snowy ditch. Oddly enough, Harry had also had a vision of them lying in a ditch together, and, when comparing the two, both Draco and Hermione had been wearing the same clothes. It was the only vision they'd had that was similar, however. Harry's visions, which were less frequent than Draco's, usually had some sort of fight between Harry, Hermione and Draco.

While Harry was much happier now that Ron was his friend again and he didn't feel obligated to stay with Hermione, he was still disturbed by the visions and jumpy about the prank war. Everyone appeared to have written off the psychic moments as cheese-induced delusions, but he wasn't so sure. For one thing, the visions of him and Hermione fighting with Draco often took place in Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place (which he had neglected to tell Hermione); for another, he didn't think delusions were as detailed or realistic. Then, too, something about Ron seemed off; he was cheerful but also somewhat distant, and Harry could have sworn that he'd seen Ron glaring at Harry or Hermione when he thought neither of them was looking. Harry wrote this off as paranoia, but he still found it disturbing. Worst of all were his dreams, which were often something horrifying involving Hermione and Draco; his Occlumency skills helped, but not enough to shut out the dreams completely. He was rather glad that he, along with the other Gryffindor prefects, had patrol on Wednesday and Thursday, which meant he got to miss a few hours of sleep and wander around the halls; being tired was better than dreams of your best friend and enemy. Strange thoughts began to seep into his waking moments; Harry did his best to ignore them, though, writing them off as the by-products of interrupted sleep and the Cheese Spirit. Still, he was generally pretty happy; the only person who wasn't was Draco.

Draco steadily became more and more miserable by the hour. Harry, Ron and Hermione—and Ginny, when she joined them—refused to respond whenever he tried to insult them; they only spoke to him when necessary, which was rare. It seemed they had finally learned how to ignore him, and that drove him absolutely insane. He was a natural attention-seeker; he hated to be ignored more than almost anything else. He was also having a rough time of it with the visions; sometimes, they involved grotesque things like his first vision about kissing Hermione, while other visions meant ages of trying to explain what they were about to the four Gryffindors. The dreams had also increased until he had several a night—far more than Harry, which they presumed was because of Occlumency and the fact that Draco, not Harry, had called the Cheese Spirit. He was soon jolting awake several times a night, and Ron's snoring made it twice as difficult for him to fall back asleep. His thoughts were starting to revolve around Hermione, also, which he attempted to blame on the Cheese Spirit bite; he found that most of his intrapersonal communication was ranting about her, and he was finding it harder and harder to avoid noticing that she was in fact good-looking. Rage and depression became his two main emotions; he couldn't seem to enjoy anything. Even the thought of the approaching holidays couldn't cheer him; every teacher he asked about the chain said no one was any closer to a solution, and the last thing Draco wanted was to spend his Christmas with Hermione.

On Thursday evening, Dumbledore approached them in the Great Hall. (They'd taken to eating in the Great Hall after their run-in with Filch outside the kitchens, knowing it would be too risky to go back for a while; they did keep their wands out most of the time, but whenever someone had asked Ginny about a rumor, she had said that Ron had told her to hex anyone who bothered her, which kept people away from Ginny, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco.) The headmaster had told them that the outlook on removing the chain was far too bleak, and that they'd have to go on Christmas holidays together after all. Knowing better than to hold a major fight in front of the headmaster, Draco and Hermione settled the matter with minimal arguing; they'd ride the train to King's Cross with the rest of the students on Monday and stay at Draco's home until Christmas morning. Dumbledore was hoping to secure a Ministry car to get them to Hermione's parents' home on Christmas Day, and her parents had already agreed to drive Hermione and Draco to the gathering at Hermione's grandparents' home and then to Grimmauld Place for the rest of the holidays. Neither was too happy with this arrangement, but both grudgingly accepted it.

* * *

Ron woke up on Friday morning with an almost overwhelming sense of determination. Today was the day. Today was the day he would make Hermione wish she'd never messed with him.

It had been exhausting, pretending that everything was okay, that he was no longer angry when all he wanted to do was scream in her face and beat the snot out of Draco. If anything, he'd become even more upset during the past three days, and even more eager to get revenge. He was now convinced that Hermione had been messing around on him. Every time they'd passed Snape in the hallway or seen him in the Great Hall, Snape had waved and smiled or called out a hello. The look on Oliver's face when Ron and Hermione had walked into Defense Against the Dark Arts holding hands and smiling… he'd been disappointed, and annoyed; Ron was sure of it. Oliver had looked like he was going to say something to them when they'd first walked in, but once he'd spotted Ron he'd clammed up; Oliver had been avoiding them ever since. And Ron didn't think for a second that the visions were false. Delusions didn't just come and go like the visions did; a delusional person didn't just have a one moment where they saw something strange and then went about their day. Delusional people who hallucinated believed in the hallucinations and didn't have a sense of rationality like Harry and Draco still did. Harry and Draco hadn't been driven insane by the Cheese Spirit, and Ron didn't think that Snape had been lying about the visions. After all, he hadn't been lying about the potion or the banishing ritual. Ron knew there had to be some sort of truth to the visions—and the common factor in all of them, the one everyone seemed to have missed, was that Ron wasn't in any of them. He wasn't in the visions about Harry and Hermione arguing with Draco, and he wasn't in the visions Draco had either. Ron was also absent from the dreams, though neither Harry nor Draco would say much about them—which could only mean that soon, Ron would be out of Harry and Hermione's life.

_Good riddance,_ he thought, though he still felt a twinge of sadness. He'd really cared about Hermione and Harry; they were his greatest friends, and some part of him would always see them as such. Still, that didn't excuse their behavior. That didn't give them the right to do what they'd done.

The twins had planned the whole prank perfectly. Every angle was covered, from the best way to get the drop on Hermione to alibis to getting an audience. They would pull it off, and they wouldn't get caught. Not even Hermione would know who had done it, which would leave her open in the future.

Ron looked over at Hermione, who was sleeping peacefully two feet away. Beyond her side of the bed, he could see the back of the couch. Draco was muttering unhappily in his sleep. Ron grinned.

Everything would go according to plan.


	36. According to Plan

**Chapter Thirty-five**

_According to Plan_

Hermione hummed cheerfully to herself as she walked out of Draco's Muggle Studies class. Everything was going blissfully well. She was back with Ron, Harry was a lot calmer, Ginny had stopped pestering them all for details of one rumor or another, and Draco had been blessedly quiet for almost three days. The only times he'd been even remotely close to getting under Hermione's skin was when they had to split up from Harry and Ron during afternoon classes, but he'd given up by Thursday; Hermione was too happy to let Draco bother her much.

"Could you stop humming, please?" Draco muttered irritably as he turned towards the staircase that would take them down to the Great Hall.

Hermione ignored him. She didn't stop humming, but she didn't start humming louder to further annoy him; the fact that she wasn't letting him bother her was enough to make her happy.

Draco sighed, wondering what his fellow Slytherins were up to. Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy Parkinson were probably all chatting away, perhaps planning a prank on the Gryffindors or some of their other enemies. As annoying as the dimwitted Slytherins could be, he would have given his right arm to be hanging out with them… especially since his right arm was the arm chained to Hermione.

_At least classes are over,_ he told himself, though that didn't give him much comfort. Now that he'd just completed his last exam—Muggle Studies—there would be no classes until next term, and no classes meant more time with Harry, Ron and probably Ginny; they rarely left Hermione's side. They were like one big, disgusting family, always smiling and laughing and giving Draco the urge to kick a small furry animal. Preferably a puppy.

Still, he couldn't suppress a rush of anticipation; Christmas break was almost upon them. He would just have to suffer through a weekend of Gryffindor cheer before finally being able to get rid of them after the train ride to King's Cross, if only for a few days. He wasn't looking forward to having Hermione in his house, or going to hers, but the more time he spent with Hermione and her friends, the more he began to realize that anything was better than "hanging out" with Harry and Ron. He would sell his soul just to get rid of one of them, never mind both. And Ginny was evil incarnate; he especially hated her habit of finding sneaky little ways of rubbing things in (she still liked to make references to the Bat-Bogey hex she'd put on him in Umbridge's office two years ago).

A painful yank on his wrist made him wince and he turned to see Hermione headed in the other direction. "This way," she said absently, wondering where Ron and Harry were; they had somehow always managed to be outside her class by the time she left the room.

"There's nothing down that way but a shortcut to Charms," Draco protested, jerking his head at the turn in the corridor that would lead them over to Flitwick's room. Hermione didn't reply. Draco started to snap at her, but stopped as Hermione stepped behind a suit of armor and tapped a stone in the wall with her wand. The wall slid apart, creating an opening. He growled low in his throat. Everything about her pissed him off, especially the fact that she was oh-so-smart.

"Come on," she said, stowing her wand away in her arm cuff as she slipped into the secret passage.

Draco grumbled as he followed her, annoyed beyond belief. She had to know everything about everything, and everything had to be done her way. It was driving him mad.

The passage led them down a set of stairs and into a short tunnel, which soon forked into three. Hermione turned right without hesitation and Draco followed, still ranting in his thoughts when he felt something hit his back—and then suddenly he was flying forward, barely managing to get his arms up in time to protect his face. He hit the floor painfully hard and skidded forward a little, Hermione yelping and leaping out of his way.

Draco rolled over and sat up, his eyes flashing. "What did you do that for?" he yelled at Hermione.

"I didn't do a thing," Hermione informed him, frowning.

"You hit me with a jinx! I felt the spell hit; don't deny it!"

"How could I hit you when you were _behind_ me?" she said calmly. "You must have tripped and imagined that you got hit."

Draco opened his mouth to tell her off just as something hit his shoulder. An overwhelming feeling of exhaustion swept through him, building upon the tiredness he'd been feeling since the dreams had started. His angry retort turned into a large yawn and he slumped back against the stone floor, asleep.

Hermione arched an eyebrow at him, confused for a moment before her instincts kicked in. A rush of adrenaline went through her, her mind and body filled with sense of readiness acquired after years of helping to fight against Voldemort and his supporters.

"Who's there?" she called, turning to face back the way they came and dropping the load of books in her arm. Before she could draw her wand something hit her hard in the stomach and she fell back on top of Draco. Next second, a wave of sleepiness hit her. She struggled to stay conscious but failed.

A heartbeat later, the Weasley twins were grinning down at the two of them.

* * *

Harry walked into the Great Hall with Ginny, smiling from ear to ear. Exams were over, and he was only two days away from vacation, during which he wouldn't have to see Draco for nearly a week. As worried as he was about things, a week without Draco Malfoy seemed rather like winning the lottery.

"So where's Ron?" Ginny asked as they sat down at the Gryffindor table.

"Said he'd go up to Muggle Studies and walk Hermione down. Told me to go ahead," Harry said with a shrug, digging into his dinner. "So, are we all heading into Hogsmeade this weekend?"

"Of course," Ginny said. "I am, anyway. I need some stuff from Zonko's."

"Don't you get a discount at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?"

"Oh, it's not for me. Fred and George offered me ten Galleons to do some industrial espionage on the new Zonko's products."

"Industrial espionage?"

"Yeah, you know—get old Mr. Zonko talking about his new products and take a few notes. He always used to tell anyone who'd listen about his ideas, but now that Fred and George have gone into business, he won't tell anyone with red hair. Speaking of which, remind me to research a few glamour spells tonight."

"Isn't that, I don't know, copyright infringement or something?"

"Oh, Fred and George would never copy ideas straight from Mr. Zonko. They love that old man to death; they're all still friendly and stuff. Mr. Zonko's just paranoid. The twins just like hearing other people's prank ideas; they build off them, twist them around, and come up with other ideas. It's more like inspiration research for them. And speaking of joke ideas… we should get back into the prank war, you know."

"How? We can't hit Malfoy; we'll get blamed for it."

"Maybe. Maybe not. We can set it up to look like an outside job—"

"You do realize you sound like a bank robber, right?"

"—and there are, like, somewhere between sixty and a hundred other Slytherins. Plus there are a few people I'd like to hit in the other houses, starting with Parvati and Lavender and some of my roommates and working down from there."

"I don't know, Gin," Harry said thoughtfully, absently glancing over at Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy. "We've got a lot to deal with right now. Maybe, though."

"Maybe what?" Ron asked, appearing at Harry's side and sitting down.

"Gin wants to get back into the prank war," Harry said.

"Sounds like a great idea," Ron said, his mouth already full of mashed potatoes.

"Hey—where are Hermione and Ferret Boy?" Ginny asked.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Hermione said she wanted to go up to the library to research some stuff. Told me to go down to dinner alone."

"Bet Malfoy was happy about that," Harry said dryly. Ron chuckled.

Ginny gave Ron a funny look, frowning. "You let her go alone?"

"She asked me to, and I was too hungry to argue."

"…She wanted to go alone?"

"Yeah. Said there was no point in me skipping dinner. Oh, she did ask me to save her something, though."

Harry, wondering why Ginny was giving Ron a hard time, gave her a questioning glance and found her giving him a significant look. He wasn't sure what she meant, however; he couldn't see anything wrong. Hermione had been telling them that she didn't need an escort to class for days, even though he and Ron had never relented.

"After dinner," Ginny mouthed, and Harry nodded slightly, wondering what was going on.

* * *

Fred and George, who knew Hogwarts like no one else, had no problem getting Hermione and Draco out of the castle. Once they'd reached the grounds, they used a spell to make it look as if Hermione and Draco were simply walking of their own accord, so that anyone who saw them would assume Hermione and Draco were conscious. In minutes, they were at the edge of the forest and heading inside.

The twins also knew some of the forest quite well, having ventured into it many times during their days as students. Once they were under the cover of the trees, Fred pulled a map from his pocket and examined it carefully. The twins and Ron had marked the location of every place where he, Harry, or Hermione had ever run into anything nasty, and Fred and George planned to work out a good place to stash Hermione and Draco from this information and their own.

"Let's see," he said as he and George paused in the trees, their captives floating eerily a few feet away. "Ron's written 'Aragog' here—and underlined it six times—and here's where they think the centaurs hang out… over there's Hagrid's hut, and we know there's at least one Blast-Ended Skrewt here… What the hell does this mean? 'Grawp; don't go there! New people have to be introduced by Hagrid.'"

"What's a grawp?" George wondered.

"No idea, but let's avoid it. I'd say… ten meters east of here, and twenty into the forest. It's not too close to Hagrid…"

"Perfect. No, wait! That's near where Fluffy lives, remember? He scared the crap out of us in fourth year?"

"How could I forget?" Fred tapped the map with his wand and a little note appeared. "Okay… so not there, and this is where the thestrals are…"

"Pity we don't have the Marauder's Map," George said with a sigh. Harry and Hermione's belongings had been thoroughly warded once they'd started sharing a room with Draco.

After a good quarter hour of discussion, the twins headed east for five meters and south for thirty, which put them far enough from Fluffy without getting them too close to anything very deadly. It was deep enough in so that Hermione and Draco wouldn't be lying on snow; the trees were so close that the snow hadn't reached the ground. It was also far from any clearings (leaving two unconscious people in the open was too dangerous) and close enough to the edge of the forest that Draco and Hermione wouldn't have too hard of a time getting out. After all, the real fun began when the two of them tried to make it up to the castle.

"Okay," Fred said as he and George released the spells holding Draco and Hermione upright. "Still got Hermione's wand?"

"What?" George said blankly.

"Hermione's wand. Do you have it?"

"No—I thought you were supposed to get their wands."

"No, I was supposed to get Malfoy's and you were supposed to get hers."

"So we forgot the wand in the corridor. Big deal. We'll go back."

Fred frowned, knelt next to Hermione and lifted up her right arm. "Or it's still in her arm cuff."

"Oops," George said sheepishly.

"GEORGE! You were supposed to wait for her to draw her wand before you hit her with the spell!"

"So I goofed! Pardon me for being human!"

"This isn't going to work half as well if she can use her wand," Fred groaned.

"Well, it's still going to work, and that's what's important."

Fred sighed, a bad feeling coming over him. Contrary to popular belief, the twins' plans didn't always work out smoothly; that was the real reason why they were known as troublemakers—because they kept getting caught. "Yeah, you're right. Well, let's get to work. I'm freezing my ass off."

George paused, frowning thoughtfully. "Say, Fred… it's below freezing, isn't it?"

"Yeah, so?"

"And it's almost dark, so it's going to get colder."

"What's your point?"

"Well… how long do you think it will take two naked people to freeze to death?"

Fred smacked his forehead. "WHY didn't you think of this before?"

"Well, why didn't you?"

"Because I came up with the idea!"

"No, Snape and Harry's mum came up with the idea."

"Well, I came up with the best place for us to knock them out!"

"Oh, following them after class is real original."

"At least _I_ didn't leave Hermione her wand! _Hermione, _of all people!"

"No, you're just the one who wanted to leave them half a meter from a violent three-headed dog!"

"Okay, okay, look. Let's just forget it and think. How long does the sleeping spell last?"

"Another forty-five minutes to an hour."

"Okay. So how long does a warming spell last?"

"A half hour, max."

"So, we'll just put warming spells on them, and Hermione will renew them when she wakes up."

"Except we might do it wrong, because warming spells are difficult, and we won't really be able to tell if we did it right or not."

"Damn. Um… think, think, think… Hey! What about an illusion spell?"

"What good would that do?"

"Remember when Ron told us about Malfoy hitting her with that spell? Made her look like she was in her underwear?"

"That could work! Bit disappointing, though. It'll wear off two hours or so after they wake up."

"Well, it's all we've got, and it's not like we don't have plans for future pranks to embarrass them."

"True."

Fred pulled out his wand, frowning in concentration before casting the spell. A moment later, Hermione looked like some strange sort of fashion reject. Her gloves, scarf, hat, cloak, shoes, socks, pants and bra were still there; the only things that appeared to be affected at all were her robes and shirt.

"Well," George said, laughing at the strange sight of her, "either you really suck at illusions, or she's made her clothes spell-resistant."

"I'm sure I just did it wrong. I got her shirt and robes—"

"Which she couldn't make spell-resistant, because she has to slice them open and repair them with spells every day to get them on and off."

Fred growled in frustration. He should have thought of that; with all the pranks flying around Hogwarts, Hermione surely would have looked for a way to keep her clothes from constantly getting ruined. "Well, I doubt Malfoy's as smart. Go ahead."

"What?"

"Cast an illusion on him."

"I can't cast a spell with my eyes closed."

"So leave your eyes open."

"And see Malfoy naked? I don't think so."

"Well, I cast the spell on Hermione."

"Which not only failed, but would have been a good thing if it had worked. Not a traumatic moment."

"If you don't hit him, he'll stay clothed."

"Then I guess he's staying clothed."

"George! This is working out bad enough. We have to at LEAST hit Malfoy."

"You're right. Let's go get Ron to do it."

Fred sighed pitifully. "All right, look. Let's just leave his pants, okay? You do the shirt, I'll get his feet."

"Why do you get his feet?"

After a long argument, the twins finally realized that they were running out of time before Draco and Hermione woke up. George grudgingly performed the spell on Draco's shirt, robes and cloak, and Fred did the same to his shoes and socks. "Okay," Fred said, looking down at the strangely-dressed pair. "What's next on the list?"

"We go persuade Hagrid to go get drunk in Hogsmeade so they can't get him to help, then we head to the Great Hall as if we've just arrived."

"Great. After all, we just had a few minor problems. Everything else will go according to plan."

* * *

"Hello, Potter!"

Harry, Ginny and Ron all fought to suppress a groan. Snape had yet to deviate from his new midlife-crisis personality; he'd now taken to saying hello to Hermione and the others when they passed him in the hall. It was starting to freak them all out, and they were getting even more weird looks from the other students.

Harry turned to see Snape standing behind him, dressed strangely and smiling. Snape had yet to actually approach them at meals; Harry prayed this wouldn't become a habit. "Hello, Professor," he said wearily.

"I just wanted to remind you of your detention," Snape said. "I'll be filling in for Filch to get you started; the poor man has daisies growing out of his face. Something to do with the prank war, no doubt. Meet me out by the greenhouses in a half hour, all right? Do try to be on time; I've got a pressing engagement."

Harry nodded, relieved when Snape smiled, said his good-byes, and left. "Mental old freak," he muttered, turning back to his meal.

"Is that any way to talk about your professors?" said Fred, dropping onto the bench next to him. George sat down across from Fred.

"Considering it's Snape, yeah," Harry said with a sigh. "What's up, guys?"

"Oh, not much," George said. "Stopped off to see Hagrid and convinced him to go down to the Three Broomsticks and tell Rosmerta to put it on our tab."

"Awfully nice of you," Ginny said, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, he's still taking care of Pig, and we feel pretty bad about that," Fred said.

"I don't see you offering _me_ a night of drinking on your tab," Ron muttered.

"You're family," George said. "You're supposed to automatically forgive us."

"'Supposed to' being the key phrase," Ron retorted.

Harry opened his mouth to make a joke, but a sudden sharp pain shot up his leg. "OW!" he yelped.

"What is it?" Fred asked.

"It's not your scar, is it?" Ron said worriedly, flashing back to the days before Voldemort's demise.

"No," Harry said, rubbing his shin. "I think someone just ki—"

"It's his leg," Ginny said, talking over him. "He fell on the way down to dinner. Harry, you really should have that looked at." The sharp pain came again, and Harry glared at her, wondering why she had to get his attention in such a painful matter.

"Right," Harry agreed, confused and annoyed. "I think I'll go up to the hospital wing before detention."

"Madam Pomfrey might hex you, you know," Fred said idly.

"Nah, she won't," Harry replied with a grin. "Then she'd have to treat me longer. See you, guys."

Harry and Ginny got up and left, Harry limping slightly. "Was that really necessary, Gin?" Harry asked.

"Walk faster," she told him. "We've got to get to the library."

"Why?" Harry asked, frowning.

"Because I'll bet you every Knut I have that Hermione isn't there," Ginny said grimly.

"Ginny, what—"

"Harry, don't you think it's odd that even though Ron has refused to let Hermione out of his sight for the past few days, he agreed to let her go today?"

"You know how Ron is about food," Harry replied with a shrug.

"Isn't it strange that he let Hermione out of his sight on the same day the twins are visiting?" Ginny continued, power-walking towards the library.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Gin, you're just being paranoid."

"Come on, Harry. Surely you've noticed that something seems off about Ron lately? He's too… cheerful. He doesn't seem sincere or something. And I could have sworn I saw him glaring daggers at you and Hermione a few times."

Harry frowned, recalling all the instances when he'd thought something was up with Ron. "Well, so what? Maybe he's still angry, but trying to get passed it."

"I don't think so, Harry. Ron's too stubborn, and so are the twins. Doesn't it seem strange that a few hours after they swore to get revenge on Hermione, they were all nicey-nice? I know my brothers, Harry. The moment they left our sight, they started planning ways to get us. While you and Hermione and Draco were dueling in Snape's office, I was eavesdropping on them, and they were talking about bringing in Peeves to help, not how they should get over their little grudge. Something's wrong. I think they've done something to Hermione."

Harry swallowed, her logic hitting him hard. He cursed himself for not keeping his eyes open wider and he broke out into a jog. "Think, Gin. What would they have done?"

"I don't know. A fairly major prank, I'd wager… and something to do with Hagrid, no doubt. The twins are nice enough, but they don't often offer their tab at the Three Broomsticks to a guy who can hold his liquor like Hagrid. Maybe I'm wrong; it's definitely possible. But something doesn't feel right, Harry."

A few moments later, Harry and Ginny were bursting through the doors of the library, both of them looking around for Hermione and Draco. Madam Pince glowered at them, no doubt annoyed by their noisy entrance. Harry ran over to her.

"Have you seen Hermione?" he asked. "And Malfoy?"

"Miss Granger? She hasn't been in here since yesterday," Pince replied.

Harry and Ginny looked at each other worriedly and dashed out of the room.

"Where would she be?" Harry wondered. "We've got to find her."

"Harry, you have to go to detention," Ginny reminded him.

"I'm not going to detention when Hermione is out there somewhere—"

"Harry, look, there's a good chance I'm wrong," Ginny said. "You have to go; skipping detention is grounds for suspension. Maybe she just left the library, and Madam Pince didn't see her. Maybe it's not Ron and the twins at all."

Harry bit his lip; that was the thing about Ginny—she was very objective, always looking at all the angles, even the ones she didn't like. "All right," Harry said finally, starting back towards the entrance hall. "Check the Great Hall first; maybe she's already there. If she isn't, see if Neville or Luna or someone will help. Don't accuse the twins and Ron of anything, okay? Don't even let them know that we know she's not in the library. Avoid them. For now. Come get me once you know something; I'll probably be out in the greenhouses all night. I heard a third year nearly blew up Greenhouse Three."

"Right," Ginny said. "Ask Snape if he's seen her, okay?"

They headed down to the entrance hall and split up, both praying that Hermione was okay.

* * *

Draco awoke with the wonderful knowledge that he hadn't had a single bad dream. He had had a blissfully dreamless sleep. No images of Hermione. No images of anything at all.

He grinned, keeping his eyes closed and savoring the moment. Perhaps this meant his nightmarish week was coming to a close. Or maybe it meant that whatever magic had caused the dreams and visions had given up on him, now that he refused to believe it, and decided to leave him alone.

…Or maybe it meant he'd gotten hit with a spell in a secret passage on his way out of Muggle Studies.

_Oh, yeah,_ he thought dismally, now afraid to open his eyes. He was on a hard surface, so hopefully they'd left him in the passage… but it was cold. Too cold… was he outside?

Sighing wearily, Draco opened his eyes.

Staring straight down at him was the huge misshapen face of the most horrifying monster Draco had ever seen.


	37. Hermione's Introductions

**Chapter Thirty-six**

_Hermione's Introductions and Snape's Information_

Hermione awoke to find a tree root poking her uncomfortably in the back and something gently scratching her face. Instantly alert, she sat up, recalling the spell she'd been hit with in the corridors and scanning her surroundings. She groaned, realizing where she was—the Forbidden Forest.

She started to check herself over for injuries, and noticed that her shirt and robes weren't visible, though she could still feel them. _Illusion spell,_ she thought grimly, brushing leaves from her face. _Thank the gods for spell-resisting charms._

Hermione grabbed at her arm cuff, pleased to note that her wand was still there. Whoever had hit her with the charm in the corridor had hit her before she'd had time to draw her wand; that was now going to work to her advantage.

_Who did it, though?_ Hermione thought, forcing herself to remain calm and concentrate. Absently she glanced at Draco, noticing that he appeared to be wearing only pants and was also covered in leaves, twigs and dirt because of the strong wind. _Who would want to strand me here in—?_

Hermione didn't finish the thought, glaring down at Draco, her calm quickly dissipating to be replaced by pure fury. Draco. Slytherins were the only people who'd want to hurt her; most everyone in the other houses liked her, at least to some degree, and the ones that didn't either didn't know her, or didn't dislike her enough to do something this horrible to her. So obviously, it had to be a Slytherin prank—but no Slytherin hated Draco. Or, if they did, they knew better than to cross him. While Harry, Ron, Hermione and many other Gryffindors had no fear of Draco Malfoy, a lot of other people did. Draco was the son of Voldemort's right-hand man. He had plenty of exposure to the Dark Arts, plenty of gold and connections (even if a lot of his connections had been destroyed by his father being publicly revealed as a Death Eater). It had earned him fear and respect from many Slytherins, if no where else. So, if none of the Slytherins would do something this bad to Draco, then Draco himself had to be in on it.

Hermione rose to her feet, drawing her wand and leaning over him, preparing to wake him up—and just then Draco opened his eyes, stared up at her in horror, and started screaming. Hermione jumped and shushed him, but he was freaking out and, not wanting to be set upon by centaurs and giant spiders and who knew what else, Hermione shrieked, _"Silencio!"_

The noise died and Hermione looked around uneasily. "Keep quiet, you idiot! Do you have _any_ idea how dangerous the place is?"

Draco shut his mouth, looking relieved. Hermione lifted the Silencing Charm. "I thought you were a monster," he breathed. He smirked; when she'd stood over him, her bushy hair all fluffed out by the wind and full of leaves and twigs, her face shrouded in shadow, she'd looked rather frightening. Now that his moment of fear was over, he was quick to cover it up with an insult. "You always look like one, but all those twigs in your hair really make it more pronounced."

Hermione's eyes narrowed dangerously and she pointed her wand at his throat. "What have you done?"

"What do you mean, what have _I_ done?" he snapped, looking around. "Where are we? Oh, shit, are we in the forest?"

"Don't play dumb," Hermione snapped. "This had to be you. The Slytherins are the only ones with a grudge against me."

Draco stared at her as if she was mad, or at least very stupid. "Did it ever occur to your idiotic, arrogant little Gryffindor brain that this isn't about _you?_ That it's about _me?_ In case you haven't noticed, most of the school doesn't like me."

"That couldn't escape anyone's attention," Hermione said coldly. "But no one would dare strand me in here with you."

"No one but me, you, Potty, and the Weasel family knows about this stupid chain," Draco snapped. "No one else would know you'd have to come with me when they planned this prank."

"And once they saw I couldn't be separated from you, they'd abort," Hermione insisted. "No one but the Slytherins would be that cruel to me."

"Not everyone in my house likes me, you know," Draco pointed out.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Admit it. You planned this as a way to get me back. I know you did. If it was someone just aiming for you, they wouldn't have jinxed me back there in the corridor."

"Unless they didn't want you to see them, and then decided to bring you along when they realized that you're chained to me," Draco retorted. "Believe me, Granger, if I was going to find some way to pull a prank on you, it wouldn't be _this._ For one thing, I haven't had the time or the opportunity to so much as owl my friends; I've been stuck with you and your sickening little crew, so you'd have seen me. For another, there's no way in hell I'd pull a prank that would strand me in the _middle of the Forbidden Forest!"_

His voice had risen on the last bit, a note of very sincere panic in his voice. Hermione frowned, then lowered her wand, though she kept it out. She knew perfectly well that Draco was more or less terrified of the forest. Harry had told them all about Draco's nerves back in their first year, and while, admittedly, most eleven-year-olds, including themselves, would be scared of the forest, in fifth year she had been quite satisfied to watch him squirm when Hagrid had taken their class into the forest. She and Ginny had made a running joke out of it that had lasted weeks; whenever Hermione was looking depressed, Ginny would wander by and whisper, "What prefers the dark? What did he say prefers the dark—did you hear?" in an uncannily good impression of Draco, quoting his words just before they'd followed Hagrid into the forest. The thought still brought a smile to Hermione's face.

"All right," she said reluctantly, "it wasn't you. You wouldn't come in here if your life depended on it. So who was it?" she wondered, frowning.

"Who cares, Granger?" Draco demanded. "Find out once we're out of here, all right? For now, pick a direction and start walking."

"We can't just pick a direction; we need to think," Hermione told him. "If we end up going in the wrong direction—"

"So, what, we just wait here for some monster to come kill us?" Draco said shrilly.

"Shut up," Hermione hissed. "Look, we're in very real danger here. You have _no_ idea what's in here."

"Of course I do—werewolves and thestrals—"

"Werewolves and thestrals are the least of our troubles. We're talking about a herd of murderous centaurs, acromantulas bigger than me and you put together, a giant three-headed dog… I can think of dozens of things in here that'll kill us as soon as look at us, and I'm sure I haven't met everything that lives in this forest, so shut up and let me think!"

Draco nodded mutely, looking pale and petrified. Hermione began to mutter to herself, trying to figure out which way they should go, but night fell too quickly in the forest, and every direction looked the same.

"G-Granger?" Draco whispered after a few minutes, sounding twice as scared and timid as he looked.

"Not now, Malfoy," Hermione snapped.

"Granger—"

"I'm busy! What do you want?"

Draco, his face ashen, pointed silently behind her with a shaking finger. Now that her concentration was broken, Hermione became aware of a loud rattling noise from behind her, which she recognized as the breath of an enormous creature. Swallowing, Hermione raised her wand and nervously spun around.

* * *

"I'm sorry I'm late," Harry told Snape automatically as he arrived at the greenhouses, out of breath and worried sick. "It's just—have you seen Hermione? I can't find her."

"No, I haven't. You all right?" Snape asked as Harry doubled over, putting his hands on his knees and gasping for air, having run all over the castle.

"Fine," Harry lied.

Snape nodded. "All right, then. Your detention should be simple enough; a small explosion in Greenhouse Three has covered the walls in dragon dung—"

"No, I'm not all right," Harry said suddenly, the thought of cleaning dragon dung all night further sinking his spirits. "Life sucks."

Snape cast a glance up at the castle, as though itching to leave, but he said, without much interest, "Why's that, Potter?"

"Why's that? Why's that? BECAUSE!" Harry shouted suddenly. "Ron's gone evil, I've got to clean dragon dung from walls just because I reacted like anyone would, and I have to spend every waking moment with MALFOY just to be a good friend, that's why! I want the simple life, damn it! I defeated Voldemort! Twice! And my reward is dragon dung and Malfoy? I can barely sleep anymore, either—I keep having these awful dreams about Hermione… not just Hermione… Malfoy, Hermione, and ME. It's sickening. I can barely look her in the eye anymore, and I don't know what it's about, but it can't be true, it just can't—"

Snape, who'd been trying to find a way out of the conversation, sighed, deciding that the time to tell Harry the truth about the visions had come. "Potter," he said awkwardly, "it _isn't_ true."

"What?" Harry stopped his ramblings and looked up at Snape with a look of surprise mingled with faint hope. Snape, uncomfortable, continued.

"The visions aren't true. Well, the dreams aren't, anyway. The Cheese Spirit's bite causes you to dream of whoever you were looking at during the last stage in the potion process—in this case, the love poem. The Cheese Spirit is a demon who causes confusion and fear surrounding love and desire, as a punishment for the misuse of love spells and potions. There are many such demons, though few are made of cheese. As a matter of fact, I'm not sure if he's made of cheese, that's just what he looked like to me. Plus, you know, the smell and the mooing sound when he first arrives, and the—"

"I don't care what he's made of!" Harry interrupted happily. "The dreams _aren't_ real? Are you sure?"

"Of course not. For heaven's sake, Potter, haven't you found anything during your research? Madam Pince says you're in the library almost every day—"

"Looking for a way to block visions, not for cheese monsters," Harry told him. "Oh, this is excellent! Absolutely brilliant."

"Well, now that we've cleared that up," Snape said briskly, "there's the small matter of dragon dung. Supplies over there. No magic." He jerked his thumb at a pile of cleaning equipment. "I must be going. I have a prior engagement." He started off back up to the castle.

Harry nodded, unable to believe it. How could they have been so stupid as to overlook researching the cause? They'd simply tried to block the effects, which was a lot like casting a spell on a pile of dung to make it smell better rather than getting rid of the dung itself. He picked up a bucket and a rag, then turned as Snape called back over his shoulder.

"Do make sure you tell Draco, won't you?"

Harry waved in response, but the moment Snape was out of earshot, he muttered, "Malfoy's a smart guy. He can figure it out for himself."

Even with the prospect of a night filled with fertilizer, Harry was beyond happy.

* * *

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as she saw what was behind her. She had been expecting some horrifying monster, but it was in fact Grawp.

Ever since their sixth year, Harry, Ron and Hermione, accompanied occasionally by Ginny, had made regular trips into the forest with Hagrid, trying to educate and civilize Grawp. Harry and Hermione felt as if they owed Grawp something—well, to be fair, they did owe him their lives—and as such made little complaints as they taught Grawp about grammar and manners. Grawp did surprisingly well; Hermione pointed out to the others that Hagrid had told them that other giants had learned enough English to translate for Hagrid and Maxime when the two had tried to convince the giants to join Dumbledore, so the idea that a giant could learn and think and even become smarter wasn't as farfetched as they'd originally thought. Since their lessons began, Grawp had never intentionally injured anyone (though there were a few mild accidents) and he now had enough English to carry on an almost normal conversation.

"Hermy!" Grawp said, looking pleased, as always, to have company. Hermione was a bit nonplussed about her nickname, but "Hermione" _was_ rather hard to pronounce for a giant.

"Hello, Grawp," Hermione said pleasantly, but her voice was drowned out by Draco, who seemed to have taken Grawp's cheerfulness at seeing her for cheerfulness at finding a meal. Draco naturally started screaming his head off.

"Shut up!" Hermione yelled, as Grawp began to roar in surprise. She attempted to calm Grawp, which was no easy task; Grawp couldn't hear her over the deafening sound of his own voice. Hermione put her hands over her ears; Grawp's breath was shaking most of the leaves from the trees overhead and frightened birds added their screeches to his yells as they took flight. "Grawp! GRAWP! It's okay! It's—ARGH!"

Draco had seized Hermione by the waist and pulled her back behind a tree. "Are you _insane?_ Don't speak to it! You might make it mad!"

Hermione stared at him, unable to believe he was trying to help her—though the fact that he was holding her in front of him made it clear that it wasn't an entirely selfless act. "You distract it, and then we'll run," he added, in a tone that clearly meant, "You distract it, while _I_ run."

Hermione shoved him away and waited for Grawp to draw breath, when he would be able to hear her. "GRAWP!" she screamed as loudly as she could. "It's okay! It's all right!"

Grawp looked down at her. "Hermy! Where Haggard?" he asked. He was getting closer and closer to the pronunciation of Hagrid's name.

"Hagrid's not here right now," Hermione said, biting her lip and glancing around. She wasn't sure where she was, beyond the fact that she was definitely in the forest.

"Who it?" Grawp demanded, pointing at Draco so suddenly that Draco yelped fearfully. Grawp misjudged the distance and accidentally poked Draco in the chest, knocking him flat. Draco got to his feet and hid behind Hermione, trembling.

"This is Draco Malfoy," Hermione said, feeling beyond stupid.

"Me Grawp," the giant explained. He looked at Hermione pointedly; remembering her numerous manners classes with Grawp, she cleared her throat.

"Malfoy, this is—um—Hagrid's little brother," Hermione said. "Grawp."

"Little?" Draco said shrilly. "LITTLE?"

"Pleased meet you," Grawp said, extending his hand as if to shake Draco's.

"Shake his hand," Hermione instructed.

_"What?"_ Draco stared at her in disbelief.

"Shake his hand, and say 'the pleasure is all mine,'" Hermione said patiently, fighting to keep a straight face.

Shaking madly, Draco put out his hand as slowly as possible and closed his eyes. Grawp carefully wrapped two fingers around Draco's hand; Hermione giggled slightly as she remembered how long it had taken them to get Grawp to do so without hurting anyone.

"P-pleasure's all mine," Draco stammered. Hermione wondered if he was going to wet himself.

"Harry, Ron and I have been teaching Grawp how to use proper grammar and etiquette," Hermione told Draco, as though this was a perfectly natural thing to do with your friends on a Saturday night.

"Is Drag Omal Foid friend?" Grawp asked Hermione.

"What did he just call me?" Draco asked.

"Well, no," Hermione said, ignoring Draco, wondering how she could explain this.

"Is it enemy?" Grawp asked, glowering at Draco.

"No, no, no," Hermione said hastily.

"Yes," Draco said at the same time.

"Me hurt enemies!"

"I'm not an enemy, in that case," Draco said quickly. "Granger and I are best friends, in that case. Lovers, even. Yes, we're in love. Everyone knows that."

Grawp looked questioningly at Hermione. "Hermy? What is 'lovers?'"

"What _are_ lovers," Hermione corrected automatically. "We just talked about plural and singular last time, remember?"

Grawp nodded and repeated her. "What… _are_… lovers?"

"Er… that is something Hagrid will tell you," Hermione said, wincing. The last thing she wanted to do right now was teach sex education to a giant. She struggled for something else to say to change the subject and was struck by sudden inspiration. "Grawp," she asked eagerly, "did you see who brought us here?"

"Grawp no understand."

"Did you see any other humans today?"

"Two boys with you!" Grawp said, nodding hard. "Look same. Look as Ron. They leave. Not talk to Grawp."

Hermione's jaw dropped. Fred and George. Fred and George had brought them here! But how would they have known about the forest prank? Hermione's brain ran through everything the twins would have done to plan… but _why_ would they have done it? They were on good terms with her, and so was… wait.

"Ron," Hermione whispered.

"What are you talking about?" Draco demanded. "It just described the Weasley twins, not—"

"Ron did this," Hermione said, sounding close to tears. "He's only been _pretending_ to be nice. He hasn't really forgiven me. He's been conspiring against me all this time! He only got on my good side to make sure he'd be able to keep Harry and Ginny from interfering and to prevent me from thinking it was him so he could terrorize me without seeing any payback—"

"Oh, stop whining, will you?" Draco snapped. "Who cares? So your boyfriend's a jerk. Show some spine already! You're supposed to be brave, so stop bitching and moaning and kick some ass!"

Hermione stared at him, surprised by his sudden outburst but more surprised by the truth behind his words. She suddenly felt like an idiot. Here she was, crying and complaining, when someone had done her wrong? Why wasn't she rising up and teaching Ron, Fred, George and the world in general that no one, from dark wizards to idiot boyfriends, messed with Hermione Granger?

"You're right," Hermione said simply. "You're absolutely right, Malfoy."

"I am?" Draco said, startled. He wouldn't have been surprised to have gotten smacked, or at least yelled at. Rolling his eyes when Hermione ignored him, he glanced around, trying to find the way out for himself, losing interest in Hermione and Grawp.

Hermione squared her shoulders and turned back to Grawp. "Grawp, we need your help," Hermione said uncertainly. "We need to find something important. Will you take us to the spiders?"

"Big spiders?" Grawp asked.

"Yes. Er, no, not the really big ones… a rather small one, about this big." She held up her hands about three feet apart. Draco stared at her as if she were insane.

"Grawp help!" Grawp said eagerly. "Grawp know where find them!"

Hermione smiled and prepared to thank him, but just then Grawp's gigantic fists shot out toward them. One hand closed gently around Hermione and the other around Draco; then he lifted them up (Draco began to scream again) and held them closely to his chest. It appeared he had thought Hermione's request to take them to the spiders a literal one.

"Shut up!" she called to Draco. "He's not going to hurt you! He thinks we're friends."

"Shows what he knows," Draco muttered, glaring at Hermione. "What's he doing, then?"

"Taking us to the acromantulas."

"What's an acromadu… whatever you said?"

"A giant spider, more or less," Hermione said calmly. "Capable of human speech—"

_"What?"_ Draco hissed. "How giant is giant?"

"Oh, not too large. Harry said they were about as big as carthorses, I believe."

_"WHAT?"_

"Don't worry," Hermione told him. "We just need a small one. A few spells, and we'll be safe from it. As soon as we pick it up, we'll just run like hell."

"I like that plan, at least," Draco muttered irritably. "Why, exactly, are we going to go pick up a giant spider?"

"Because," Hermione said, her eyes glinting in the dim light, "it's time to show Ron that one good prank deserves another."

* * *

"So how did it go?" Ron asked in a low voice as soon as Ginny and Harry left the Great Hall.

"Like clockwork, little bro," Fred said pleasantly. Ron raised his eyebrows and Fred sighed. "Well, okay, we had a few problems." The twins launched into a detailed account of the execution.

"You _guys!"_ Ron exclaimed, slapping his forehead. "Not only did you leave Hermione her wand, you forgot to perform the Bust Enhancement Charm!"

"Malfoy's boobs! Knew we forgot something," George muttered.

"Don't worry, Ron," Fred said soothingly as Ron's ears went red. "We've got plenty of ideas on other pranks. This is just a prequel to the real story, understand?"

George nodded emphatically. "By the time this is over, even they'll be impressed at how badly they got their butts kicked. When they're not sobbing."

Ron forced himself to calm down. "All right," he said sulkily. "What do you have in mind?"

* * *

_End Notes:_ Still reading the seventh book, but I'm almost done; I'll be updating a lot more after it's finished. More importantly:

Congratulations to sarahyyy, the 5,000th reviewer of "The Prank War!" Thanks to all of you who made this fic so damned popular, and for putting up with my insane urge to edit this thing until it was, if not perfect, then certainly less flawed. The revision's almost over, and then we can get on with the story. I have a feeling that by the time I read the epilogue of Deathly Hallows I'll be itching to rewrite the HP universe to my liking... but I must say, I like the book quite well so far.

Anyway, I can't thank you all enough. I had no idea when I started this thing that it was heading down this multi-chaptered road of psychoticness, and even less idea that I'd soon have 5,010 reviews and counting. You guys are amazing.


	38. New Alliances

**Chapter Thirty-seven**

_New Alliances_

Hermione thought hard as Grawp carried them through the trees, further into the forest. The plan was forming quickly. Harry. Grawp. Ron. Draco. An acromantula. She could do it. She could have her revenge.

"Grawp! GRAWP! Put us down, please!"

The moment Hermione issued the request, she wished she hadn't. Grawp opened his hands, dropping the two startled students unceremoniously on the ground. Draco once again started screaming as soon as the giant's fingers gave way. "Ow," Hermione moaned as she hit the dirt.

Hermione stood up, kicking Draco lightly in the invisible boot to get him to shut up. "Grawp," Hermione called loudly, "I think we should go alone from here on out. We have to surprise them. Which way are the spiders?" Grawp pointed straight ahead. "Thanks, Grawp. Which way is Hagrid?" Grawp pointed directly behind them. "Okay. Why don't you go on back to your clearing? Get some sleep?"

The giant looked somewhat disappointed at this. "Hermy come visit soon?"

"Of course I will, Grawp," Hermione promised.

Grawp turned to look at Draco. "Nice meet you," he said.

Draco shook his head wearily. "You too," he muttered, rubbing a sore spot on his leg caused by his recent contact with the ground.

"You come visit too?" Grawp asked eagerly.

Draco stared at Grawp, appalled at this suggestion. Hermione nodded quickly at Draco, trying to urge him to say yes. Draco thought about refusing to do so, but decided it was probably better to be nice to a giant.

"Okay. Yes, I will."

Grawp grinned, said his goodbyes, and lumbered off noisily. Only when Grawp disappeared into the deepening darkness did Draco realize that having a friendly giant around was definitely not a bad thing.

"Wait! Come back!" Draco yelled, getting to his feet. Hermione shushed him and he turned to glare at her. "Are you insane? You want to sneak up on a gigantic spider _alone?_ When only one of us has a wand?"

"We're not going to be able to sneak up on one at all if we're with Grawp."

"So? At least we'd have had a better chance at fighting it—"

"Harry and Ron said there were hundreds of acromantulas in this forest. Well, Ron said thousands, but he always gets a bit emotional when he talks about it. So we can't run the risk of attacking one spider and having it call dozens upon dozens of spiders to its aid."

"Dozens? Hundreds? _Thousands?!"_ Draco yelled shrilly, alarmed. "That's it, Granger, no way in hell am I going to help you—"

"Listen to me," Hermione interrupted. Something about her tone—quiet, insistent, and pleading, rather than the bark-like yells she used when angry with him—made him shut up and decide to at least hear her out.

"Malfoy—Fred, George and Ron left us here in the Forbidden Forest. They knew we could get hurt. They tried to remove our clothes so we'd have to sneak up to the castle naked. And knowing the twins, they probably are trying to make sure we're seen in our leaf-covered half-naked state. I don't know about you, but I've had enough of being humiliated."

"What are you getting at?" Draco demanded, not liking the way she was talking, as if she were trying to strike a bargain.

"Ron is terrified of spiders. Completely. He'd sooner face an army of giants combined with fifty basilisks than even a small acromantula."

"Weasley's afraid of spiders?" Draco repeated incredulously, feeling like he'd just been made king of Britain. Hermione nodded, matching his grin with a small, mischievous smile. "Wait—why are you telling me this?" he asked suspiciously.

"Because if Ron finds an unnaturally large spider in his bed, he'll never even _think_ of crossing me again. I can make it happen."

"How?"

"Easy enough. I've got it all worked out. But I can't do it without two people—Harry and you."

Draco stared at her. "You're actually going to ask _me_ for help? And expect to get it?"

Hermione stepped closer, her eyes boring into his, that slight smile still on her face. "Yes. I admit it. I need you. I need your help. I'm not asking to pick out a china pattern. I'm not asking to be bestest buddies. I'm just asking for a temporary partnership, so that we can get revenge on three of the Weasleys you so despise. Imagine the look on his face, Malfoy. Imagine Ron coming upon an enormous spider in his bed. Imagine his horror when he finds the door locked, when he realizes there's no escape from his worst nightmare."

Draco's grin broadened at that, but faded quickly as he gazed at her thoughtfully. Something about her was different. Well, perhaps not different—he didn't know her well enough to know if this side of her was new, but he did know he'd never seen it before. It was strange, a change more felt than seen. He could sense her passion, her devilish side, her raw power and her strength. It was frightening and yet oddly alluring.

He let his eyes travel over the rest of her face, amusement adding to his already confused emotions. She had twigs and leaves caught in her poofy hair; dirt and scratches marred her skin. Her eyes glittered at him with an almost crazed spark. Feeling the urge to test her, he let his gaze go lower, linger on her almost-bare chest before looking her in the eye once more. She didn't call him on it, though her smile changed to a half-smirk, a daring one, almost playful, accepting his challenge and giving him one of her own.

"Well?" she asked, in a lilting, somewhat mocking tone.

Draco shook his head, suddenly angry at himself. He'd allowed himself to think she was pretty, to think that she looked endearing covered in cuts and dirt and leaves. That was far too dangerous, and he knew it. It was one thing to think of her as a girl he'd like to shag. It was something entirely different to think of her as cute. He had to put a stop to these more frequent trains of thought about her. Still…

A vision of Ron's face swam before his eyes, of Ron screaming pathetically and trying to run from a small, easily bested spider.

"I'm in, Granger," Draco said, shrugging slightly. "I can always make your life hell tomorrow."

She let out a short laugh. "Same here."

Draco smiled again. "So what's the plan?"

* * *

Harry sighed, stretching his aching shoulder muscles. He'd had the bright idea to start at the top of Greenhouse Three's walls, and the soap and water had slid down the wall, helping to cut through the muck on the bottom half, so he'd finished faster than expected. Now he just had to put the cleaning supplies away, and then he could hunt down Ginny, and they could spend a few hours hunting for Hermione before finding their friend in some embarrassing and possibly dangerous situation. Great.

Harry forced his mind back to the wonders of knowing his dreams were false. While they were still disturbing, it was greatly comforting to know that they would end soon and that they wouldn't come true. It was even more comforting to know that Draco didn't know it.

As he was leaving the greenhouses, an orange blur hit him in the chest; he looked down just in time to catch Ginny before she fell over. She was gasping, and looked like she'd been running nonstop for four hours.

"Checked… every… w-where," Ginny gasped. "No… no sign of… Mione. Then… realized… was an… idiot… for doing… things the hard way." She held up the Marauder's Map. Harry slapped his forehead.

"I can't believe we didn't think of this hours ago," he muttered, grabbing the parchment eagerly. "If Hermione's still in Hogwarts, she'll be on here." He began scanning the map anxiously, which was no easy feat; it did, after all, show _all_ of Hogwarts, and with all the towers and floors and secret passages and whatnot, one person was going to be difficult to find.

Ginny shook her head. "Already found her," she wheezed. "Ran all the way here from Gryffindor Tower. Harry… Hermione's in the forest."

Harry stared at her in horror. "What? No way! She… what would she be doing in there?"

"Open your eyes, Harry!" Ginny snapped. "Fred, George and Ron must have put her there. I know you don't want to believe it—I don't either. But my brothers have turned on us, and turned hard."

Harry sighed. He _didn't_ want to believe it—Ron was his first, oldest, and best friend. But it was too much of a coincidence. How many people knew about the Forbidden Forest prank and also had a grudge against Hermione or Draco? Perhaps someone had thought of it themselves, or gotten the idea from their parents—but Harry doubted that a lot of parents discussed their former rule-breaking practices with their children, and he knew that most of the students wouldn't voluntarily go near the forest at all. The Slytherins wouldn't, for sure—he'd seen their terror whenever Hagrid had asked them to enter the forest for class. That left the Hufflepuffs, most of whom were too friendly to Hermione to prank her, and the Ravenclaws. A few had problems with Hermione and Harry and Ginny (some were jealous about Hermione topping them in classes, and Michael Corner and his friends were rather icy to Ginny after she dumped him), but Ravenclaws weren't often the type to do something as stupid and potentially harmful as leaving fellow students in the forest. Draco had far more enemies, but when it came down to it, Harry couldn't think of a single person who would set foot in the Forbidden Forest unnecessarily, other than Hagrid, Fred and George.

"That's why they sent Hagrid down to the Three Broomsticks," Harry muttered. "So he wouldn't be there to help Hermione."

"Exactly," Ginny said, grimacing. "Come on, Harry—we've got to go after them—"

"How?" Harry asked, stuffing the map into his pocket angrily. "The map won't help us. It's not that detailed. We'll probably run into all sorts of horrible creatures, and it could take us _days_ to find her…"

"Well, we've got to try!" Ginny insisted, glaring at him furiously.

"I know that," Harry retorted. "I just… I wish we had a plan."

"Hey, Harry!"

The two of them looked around, confused. Dean and Seamus were walking towards them. A steady stream of people was walking behind them.

"What's going on?" Harry demanded.

"Fred and George said a Slytherin was about to get their just rewards down by the forest," Dean explained. Harry groaned, his worst fears confirmed.

"They're putting the word out that we should see something interesting before curfew," Seamus added, looking excited.

Harry and Ginny exchanged horrified glances. Fred and George had not only stranded Hermione in the forest, they'd made sure she'd have an audience when—and if—she made it out.

"Harry! Do you know what's going on?" Neville called, walking up with Luna Lovegood.

At the mention of Harry's name, the crowd—mostly older Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors—rushed forward to hear what he had to say. Given the incredibly large amount of rumors being spread and the whole confusion over Draco and the chain, everyone had been on high alert whenever the subject of Harry came up. Harry looked at them all worriedly, then at Ginny for help. She bit her lip, thinking hard, then suddenly blurted out "You've been duped!"

"What d'you mean?" called a Hufflepuff.

"Fred and George are setting you all up," Ginny continued hurriedly. "Trying to get you to break curfew in the process, too. There's not going to be any prank, unless it's on all of us."

"Yeah, right!" one of the few Slytherins said with a snort. "You're just trying to get us to leave."

"Hey, if the twins knew about a great prank, they'd want to be here to see it," Harry snapped. "If they're not here, they're worried they'll get caught, so they're establishing alibis. I don't know about you guys, but if something _is_ about to go down, the last place I want to be is near it." A few people, looking alarmed and remembering various Weasley-twins moments, headed back towards the front doors quickly.

"I think we should go watch from the windows," Ginny added. "Much safer, eh, Harry?"

"Last thing I need is to get in trouble again," Harry muttered. "Especially three seconds after I got out of detention."

"You're right, Harry," Neville said loudly—a touch too loudly. "Those two would do anything for a laugh. If there was really a prank going on, they'd have come too. Let's get back inside before they lock us out of the castle somehow or whatever."

This seemed to inspire a touch of panic in the others; everyone turned back to the castle, save Dean, Seamus, Neville and Luna. "Coming, Harry?" Neville asked, still far too loudly.

Harry, realizing something was up, replied with, "I've got to finish something in the greenhouses for my detention. I'll only be a second."

When the last of the other students had disappeared, Neville, Dean and Seamus looked at Harry expectantly, while Luna stared dreamily into space, playing with her butterbeer cork necklace absently. Dean and Seamus, the only ones in the group who knew Neville well enough to know when something was up, looked rather excited, but Neville appeared more nervous.

"So what's really going on?" Neville asked. "Is it Hermione?"

"What makes you think that?" Ginny said, giving Harry a pointed look; he took the hint and kept quiet. They had to be careful; who knew who the twins had enlisted as spies?

"No one's seen her all day, not since Muggle Studies. Ernie came over to the dinner table, said he needed to talk to her about some Head Boy/Head Girl thing," Neville replied, without a trace of a lie. "I told him I'd keep an eye out for her, but I haven't seen her at all. Neither has anyone I've asked about her."

"What's up with the twins?" Dean added. "Why'd they send us all out here if there isn't going to be a prank to watch?"

"There is," Ginny said with a sigh. "At least, there might be."

"We think the twins and Ron have been working together to pull a major prank on us," Harry said. "We think they've stranded Hermione and Draco in the forest."

This provoked instant anger and mortification.

"You're kidding!"

"No way!"

"She could get hurt!"

"That wasn't very nice of them," Luna said, appearing a bit more serious than usual. Dean, Seamus and Neville turned to look at her as she stood calmly next to Neville. Her eyes were a tad wider than usual, but that was the only indication that she was even slightly worried.

"No, it wasn't," Harry said dryly. "Anyway—we've got to go look for her. You guys want to help?"

"Er… in the forest?" Dean said hesitantly.

"But… it's dark," Seamus protested.

"I'm with you, Harry," Neville said, shooting a dirty look at the other two boys.

Luna shrugged and nodded serenely. "I'm coming too," she said, as though marching into a forest full of deadly beasts were as simple as going to class.

Seamus looked at Luna and sighed; it went against his grain—and that of many Gryffindors—to wuss out when others showed bravery, especially if those others included Neville and a weirdo of a Ravenclaw. "Are you sure she's in there?"

"Positive," Harry replied.

"All right then," Seamus said, taking a deep breath. He looked at Dean for confirmation; Dean nodded reluctantly. "We're in."


	39. Centaurs and Spiders and Owls, Oh My

**Chapter Thirty-eight**

_Centaurs and Spiders and Owls, Oh My…_

Hermione crept as stealthily through the brush as she could while chained to Draco, who obviously was unaccustomed to excursions in the woods. He ran into every bramble and bush and tripped over every tree root in his path. After the fourteenth time Hermione shushed him for complaining, he stuck to making grumbling noises in his throat that sounded like he was talking with his mouth shut. Hermione was having a slightly better time of it, but not by much; she'd been in the forest often enough on her missions with Harry and visits to Grawp to know what she was doing, but it was still very dark and the vegetation was very thick.

Hermione paused and bit her lip, looking around, using her wand for light. "I wish I knew where we were," Hermione muttered.

"We're lost?" Draco hissed angrily. "You got us _lost_ in a forest full of dangerous creatures while looking for enormous spiders?"

"No! I mean, I know where _we_ are, I'm just not sure where the acromantulas are." She performed the four-point spell; it showed that they were facing northwest. "The castle is southeast from here, and I know the path to Grawp's lair is that way… ah! There's the clearing!"

"The spiders are in there?" Draco yelped, leaping away from the direction she was pointing.

"No, no, that's where we were all attacked by centaurs… thanks to you," Hermione said lightly.

"Sorry," Draco said with a large sarcastic smile.

"Don't mention it," Hermione said coolly. "After all, that's what got Umbridge out of this school."

"Wait… what?"

"Harry and I—well, I suppose it was just me—I led her in here, when Harry and I left her office that term," Hermione explained absently, heading farther northwest. "The centaurs surrounded us, and Umbridge made the mistake of calling them 'half-breeds' with 'near-human intelligence.' If Grawp hadn't shown up, we'd have all been killed. Anyway, Harry told me later that I'd accidentally taken the same track that had led him and Ron to Aragog. So that clearing is on our way."

"Can't we cut through it?" Draco moaned as she headed around it.

"No," Hermione told him. "There's no cover. That's how the centaurs were able to surround us—we were in the open, and they were hiding in the trees."

Draco sighed, then shook his head. "Is there _anything_ you haven't done?" he mumbled.

"What?"

"You've had every adventure known to wizard kind," Draco pointed out sourly. "Dementors and trolls and giants and acromantulas and murderous centaurs… wasn't it enough for you three to single-handedly win a freaking _war_ against some of the world's most powerful wizards? Wasn't that exciting enough?"

"Nope," Hermione said with a smile. "Now be quiet… we're getting close."

"How can you tell? All these trees look the same," Draco grumbled, lowering his voice all the same.

In response, Hermione aimed her lit wand tip at the ground so that Draco could see that the crunching sounds he'd assumed were made by leaves and twigs were, in fact, incredibly large spiders (though they still weren't close to an acromantula's size). Shuddering deeply, he crept a little closer to Hermione. "So… these acromantulas," Draco whispered. "You said Potter and Weasley met them."

"Yeah, so?" Hermione muttered distractedly, intent upon untangling herself from a particularly vicious bramble.

"So they won't hurt you, right? They know you, like that giant does?" He figured this was why she was so calm about approaching them.

"Oh, no—I was petrified when Harry and Ron came in here and met them. Besides, Aragog—the chief or whatever the acromantulas call their leader—he told Harry and Ron that he wasn't going to prevent the other spiders from eating Harry and Ron. Said that since Hagrid was the one who raised Aragog from an egg, Hagrid was under Aragog's protection, but he wasn't going to extend that to anyone else. There!" Hermione finally tugged herself free. "Harry and Ron were attacked, nearly killed—"

_"WHAT?"_ Draco yelped.

"SHH!"

"Oh, this just keeps getting better and better," Draco snarled. "Giant evil intelligent spiders, us alone, me unarmed, and they've already threatened to kill you lot once. Just great."

"We'll be fi—look out!" Hermione shrieked, pointing behind him.

"Yeah, right, Granger, like I'm really going to fall for that. Sure, there's some big huge monster behind me." Rolling his eyes, he glanced over his shoulder, intending to make his point. Instead, he came face to face with a spider as big as a Blast-Ended Skrewt.

"AAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

"Get down!" Hermione shouted, but there was no need; Draco was already diving behind her as the spider moved forward. Hermione drew back her wand and slashed it forward… and just like that, the acromantula was blasted on its back.

"Ha!" Draco gloated, strutting forward. "Those things aren't so—AAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

The acromantula rolled back upright with impossible agility. Hermione, who had been expecting this, took aim again. Draco, who hadn't been expecting this, ran like a bitch.

"Argh!" Hermione was jerked sideways by the chain and was forced to follow as Draco tore through the trees like a wood chipper, heading back the way they came. "MALFOY! Stop! You're going to get us killed!"

Hermione didn't know what to do. The spider was giving chase, and Draco was showing no signs of slowing. If she tried to stop him by yanking on the chain, she'd waste precious seconds that would allow the acromantula to catch her. If she turned around to aim, she'd get yanked off her feet by Draco before she could get a spell off, and running backward would probably send her straight into a tree. In vain she fired off curses over her shoulder, but the spider dodged easily.

"AAAAAHHHHHHH!"

"STOP!"

"Running will not save you, useless human!" the spider said, its pincers clicking loudly.

"AAA—OOF!"

Draco ran into something large and furry and fell backwards. Hermione, not missing a beat, spun round and hit the pursuing spider with a jet of red light. It stopped, rolling over again, and before it could get back up she hit it with three more quick spells.

"ARGH!"

"The spider's down, you idiot—"

"Murderous centaur! Murderous centaur!" Draco screeched, diving behind Hermione again.

"Hello," said a sad, doleful voice.

Hermione froze, recognizing it at once. Whipping her head around, she saw that the large, furry object Draco had bounced off of was in fact Ronan, the chestnut-bodied, redheaded centaur who had been against killing her and Harry. "Ronan," she breathed fearfully, backing up a step and accidentally stamping on Draco's foot. Draco barely noticed; he clutched her shoulders and ducked his head down, whimpering in panic.

* * *

"Wait," Neville called as they stood at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Dean and Seamus halted immediately, Harry and Ginny a bit more reluctantly. Luna simply stood gazing vaguely into space. "What?" Harry demanded.

"Harry—shouldn't we have some sort of plan before we go in there?" Neville asked timidly. "You know… a plan of action… or at least a weapon?"

"We have wands," Ginny reminded him.

"Yes, but… I mean, maybe we should get Hagrid…?"

"Yes, let's do that!" Dean said quickly.

"Hagrid's down at the pub," Harry said shortly.

"Well… well, one of us could go and get him…"

"There's no time for that! Hermione could be hurt," Harry snapped.

"I know, I know, but… well… it _is_ dark…"

"Are you lot coming with me or not?" Harry burst out angrily. "If you're not, just say so, because I don't have time for—"

"Potter?"

Harry jumped. A tall figure was walking towards them across the darkened lawn—Snape.

"Is that you, Professor?" Harry called.

"Yes, yes—what are you doing down here?" Snape asked.

"I… what are you doing down here?" Harry retorted. He wasn't going to let a teacher, any teacher, prevent him from rescuing Hermione. Given Snape's new insanity, he might be easier to get around, and Harry had to take that chance.

"I'm on my way to the gate," Snape said with a shrug. "I was planning on taking the Floo network, but I don't fancy being covered in ash when I get there."

They all stared at him, noticing in the light of their wands that Snape appeared to have taken great care in his appearance. He seemed freshly showered; his hair wasn't greasy at all. He was back to wearing black, thankfully, but the smile on his face completely destroyed any evil points the black clothing could have given him, especially when combined with—

"Are you wearing perfume?" Ginny demanded incredulously.

"Who, me? No, no, of course not," Snape said hastily, backing away slowly. "It's… potion ingredients, you know, horrid smells all the time… well, I'll leave you to… whatever you're doing…"

Harry, Ginny, Dean, Seamus and Neville gaped at him as he hastily retreated; even Luna looked mildly interested. "What was _that_ all about?" Seamus wondered.

Ginny rounded on Harry. "Okay. I know Hermione's in there alone with Malfoy, and I know there are dangerous things in that forest, but Harry, we have to stop Snape. We have to figure out what he's up to. Never have I wanted to play detective with you and Hermione and Ron like I do right now, but since the world is completely out of whack at the moment and we've got these four instead of those two, I say we follow him first. Hermione's capable of holding off until we get there, and I want to know what Snape is up to."

"It could be important," Dean added, nodding emphatically.

"And we'll probably get lost in the forest anyway," Luna added serenely. "For ages, until the Glob Sludge gets us…"

"Glob Sludge?" Neville repeatedly anxiously.

"Yes, it's quite horrible, you know—"

Harry frowned, tuning out of the conversation. Hermione _was_ alone in the forest with Malfoy… but there was no way Fred and George could have gotten her wand from her cuff. She could take care of herself for a few more moments… and they did need to figure out what was up with Snape… if he was meeting someone in Hogsmeade, they could solve the mystery once and for all… and if Snape had somehow had a hand in putting those visions and dreams in Harry's head…

"All right," Harry muttered. "But if it takes more than a few minutes, we're heading back up here."

Dean, Seamus and Neville hastily nodded, and the six of them hurried off after Snape.

* * *

Unlike her last encounter with the centaurs, Hermione had been prepared for something like this, just in case. Therefore, she had a better idea of what to say. Hastily she stuffed her wand in her arm cuff and held up her hands in the classic position of surrender, willing herself to stay calm.

"Ronan, I know you and the other centaurs didn't want me to come back," Hermione said, trying not to babble but only halfway succeeding, "and I've only been going to see Grawp until today, like Hagrid arranged with you. I haven't even been in here very often since school started, what with how busy I've been. I didn't mean to intrude on your territory. It's just that there's this prank war going on, and we were stranded here. I just wanted to capture an acromantula for revenge. I know it was wrong of me to go where I told you I wouldn't, I just—"

"Be at ease," Ronan interrupted. "You are one of the three who killed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. We now call you 'the Daughter of Athena,' and I am honored to be in your presence. Please extend my regards and apologies to the Chosen One for our previous treatment. I will not harm you, nor will any other of my kind, but I implore you—make haste towards the safety of the castle. There are other dangers lurking in this forest."

"Thank you," Hermione said, sighing in relief. "And… I'll tell Harry what you said." She pointed her wand at the spider, and it rose into the air, hovering a few feet off the ground; it would follow where she led it. She started to push past Ronan, Draco following her closely and still shaking, but she paused and looked around uncertainly. "Erm… that _is_ the right way to the castle, isn't it?" she asked, pointing.

"Yes."

"Thanks. Goodbye, Ronan."

"Goodbye, Daughter of Athena."

Draco gaped after Ronan as he cantered away, then hurried forward to walk close to Hermione, as the spider was floating uncomfortably close behind them. "You weren't sure where the castle was?"

"I just wanted confirmation," Hermione insisted, but Draco thought she looked a tad shifty.

"You could have walked us into the middle of a nest of werewolves!"

"Considering it's nowhere near the full moon, I doubt it," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

"Still!" Draco sighed, glaring at her, then looking back at the spider apprehensively. "You sure that thing isn't going to attack?"

"Positive. Now hurry up; it should be about a half hour walk to Hagrid's from here, minimum."

"Why are we going to Hagrid's?"

"You'll see when we get there."

Draco frowned. "What was all that about with the centaur?"

"I guess they've all changed their minds about us now that Voldemort's dead," Hermione said with an irritable shrug.

"No… I mean the 'Daughter of Athena' stuff."

"I don't know. I guess that's their way of honoring us. The Chosen One would be Harry—everyone's been calling him that."

"Where do you think they got your nickname?"

"I don't know… Athena was the goddess of wisdom."

"And war, right?"

"Yes, but not like Ares. Ares just liked blood and mayhem. She liked championing causes."

"So she was a goody-goody like you," Draco said cheerfully. "Eh, makes sense, doesn't it? Of course, she was a virgin, and you're a tramp—"

"For crying out loud, will you shut up about that already?" Hermione grumbled.

"No. It's true. And I'm going to make sure everyone knows it."

"You're going to make a fool out of yourself, you know."

"Gee, like I've never done that before," he said, rolling his eyes. "It'll be worth it. The tattoo was." Hermione gritted her teeth. Seeing this, he pressed on a bit more gleefully. "I bet even now everyone's talking about what happened at Quidditch practice on Monday."

"Shut up," Hermione growled. "That's old news."

"Yeah, but the week's been so quiet there isn't much else to talk about _but _Monday," Draco pointed out smugly. "Yeah, I bet the team told everyone about how you tried to 'chew off my major appendage' and all. Of course, they might start thinking that 'chew off' was slang for something else, something with a more positive meaning—"

"You're disgusting."

"Says the girl who's shagging Snape."

"I AM NOT—look," Hermione snapped, stopping and turning to look at him, fighting to keep her rage in check, "I thought we had a deal. We call a truce until this prank is over."

"But you're just so hot when you're angry," Draco said mockingly.

"Okay," Hermione said, glaring dangers at his smirking face, "I'm tired, I'm cold, I'm covered in dirt and scratches, my senses are on high alert for evil creatures, you have no wand and I have a giant spider under my control. A giant _poisonous_ spider, I should say. Is this really the best time to be making me angry?"

Draco's smugness changed immediately to nervousness. "All right, point taken."

"Thank you."

As they continued onward, however, Draco couldn't resist once last dig.

"You're welcome. I figure I should be a little nicer to you, anyway." Hermione shot him an incredulous look. "What? I mean, after all, since you've been chained to me, you haven't been able to shag Wood _or_ Snape. Must be terribly frustrating for you."

Hermione let out a small scream and marched on. Draco followed with a grin on his face and bounce in his step.

He watched her march angrily towards the castle, amused and thoughtful at the change in her. Her revelations about Ron would make life a lot easier for Draco… after all, the euphoria centering on Ron had been all that kept her from losing her cool when Draco attempted to attack her. That euphoria had since been replaced by determination and vengeful wrath, with which would surely come satisfaction, but that was nothing like what Ron's return had given her. He could get under her skin now… and the idea was more appealing than ever.

"So," Draco said after granting her a few minutes' peace, "what's next in this devious little plan of yours?"

"Hopefully," Hermione said stiffly, "you'll break your nose walking into a tree."

"Well, what's after that?" Draco asked cheerfully, to ensure that she couldn't have the pleasure of bothering him.

Hermione heaved a sigh. "We're going to Hagrid's."

"Why? That great oaf might try to steal our big evil dangerous spider."

"Better not let Grawp hear you saying mean things about his big brother," Hermione said coolly, then smirked when Draco looked around nervously.

"That's not funny," Draco insisted, glowering at her—and promptly walking into a tree. Hermione burst out laughing.

"Oh, ha, ha," Draco said sourly, rubbing the side of his head. "Now come on. We've got people to prank, don't we? What's next?"

"Oh, I just love it when you're all business," Hermione said dryly. Before Draco could retort, she continued. "We're going to Hagrid's to send a message to Harry. We found out last Wednesday that he had detention in the greenhouses today; with any luck, he'll still be there."

"Hagrid has an owl?" Draco asked.

"Yes," Hermione said, not meeting his eye.

"Okay, then."

"Now be quiet," Hermione said, pushing ahead. "Remember what Ronan said about other dangers in here."

Draco swallowed and decided she was probably right. They marched back through the trees with only the occasional complaints and bickering matches. The way back was much easier; they'd managed to clear something of a path on their way through the forest.

After a long while, Hermione veered off their path and onto a slightly clearer trail that she frequented on her visits to Grawp. Winded, cold and irritable, they kept quiet, until Hermione whispered, "Careful—we're pretty close to Fluffy."

"Fluffy? You're worried about something called Fluffy?"

Hermione paused, then lowered the spider to the ground so that she could maneuver her still-lit wand better. "Tell you what. Take this and just look through those trees right there."

Draco took Hermione's wand and held it aloft. Three seconds later, as his eyes widened in terror at the sight of the giant three-headed dog chained to a large tree, he started screaming hysterically.

"Hagrid named him," Hermione said simply with the utmost satisfaction as she reclaimed her wand and waved it; a haunting melody started playing, and the dog's eyes closed quickly.

"Oh, my god," Draco moaned, shaking badly. "We've got to get out of this forest, Granger."

Hermione paused and looked around, suddenly appearing puzzled. "Oh, damn—I think we're lost again."

"WHAT?"

"Sorry, I couldn't resist," she said, grinning smugly.

"You little…"

"Temper, temper! Remember—giant spider, giant dog, giant giant…"

"I _hate_ you."

"Likewise. Ah, here we are."

They emerged quite suddenly from the forest and found themselves in Hagrid's pumpkin patch. "Come on," Hermione told him, and went and rapped on Hagrid's front door.

"This shouldn't be too hard to explain," Draco muttered, looking at Hermione and then at himself, their clothes still under the illusion charms, the both of them looking like they'd lost a fight to an army of bowtruckles, and the acromantula floating overhead.

"Hagrid's pretty nice about helping us, no matter what we've been up to," Hermione called over Fang's barks. "But it looks like he's not home." Heaving a great sigh, Hermione set the spider down carefully and waved her wand at the door. It promptly popped open. "Stay here," she told Draco, grabbing Fang's collar and pulling him away from Draco.

"Hey, why?" Draco demanded, casting an apprehensive look at the spider.

"Someone needs to watch it."

"Well, it sure as hell isn't going to be me!"

"Fang doesn't know you!"

"Fang met me in our first year! We ran from the Dark Lord together! It was a bonding experience!"

"Well, dogs have short memories," Hermione snapped, slamming the door on him. She turned to head for Hagrid's table and, having overlooked the problem of the chain, nearly cut off her own hand.

"Forget something?" Draco asked, holding up his wrist when she reopened the door irritably.

"Shut up," Hermione growled as she let him in. "Don't touch anything. We won't be here long… I just need to write a note to Harry."

Grabbing a scrap piece of parchment and a quill, Hermione wrote one note to Harry and another to Hagrid, apologizing for helping herself to his house. Then she led the way outside, Draco grumbling behind her about dog drool.

"Bloody beast… probably the little brother of that Fluffy monstrosity…"

"Hi!" Hermione called out, and Draco looked up, expecting to see Hagrid's owl. What he saw instead made him gape at Hermione in horror.

"Oh, _hell no,"_ Draco breathed. "Are you _insane?_ You want to send a letter with _that?"_

"He'll do fine," Hermione insisted. "Have you got a better idea? If Hagrid isn't here, we're going to have to use what we've got."

Draco sighed as Hermione moved towards it. "I've got a bad feeling about this," he muttered.

* * *

"Harry, slow down!" Neville puffed. Ginny, Dean, Seamus, Neville and Luna were all extremely winded—so was Harry, really, but he was refusing to let it slow him down.

"We've got to save Hermione!" Harry snapped. Their pursuit of Snape had been useless; Snape had Apparated immediately once leaving the grounds. Thus they had no idea where he was going, though they doubted Snape was going to Hogsmeade, as there wouldn't have been much point in Apparating a few feet, and most wizards considered it rude to Apparate directly into someone's home anyway. "I knew we shouldn't have wasted time on Snape…"

"Harry, if we collapse from exhaustion, we're not going to be able to save anyone!" Ginny panted.

Harry glared at her but halted, and the others gratefully stopped, breathing hard and clutching stitches in their sides. "Hurry up," he called impatiently, pulling the Marauder's Map out of the pocket of his cloak to check that Hermione was still in the forest. He received a pleasant surprise, however.

"Hey!" he called. Ginny looked up from where she'd collapsed on the grass. "Hermione and Malfoy made it out! They're at Hagrid's!"

"Oh, thank god," Ginny gasped, wiping the sweat off her forehead and sighing in relief.

"That's great," Neville said.

"LOOK OUT!" Seamus bellowed, and Harry dropped the map, fumbling for his wand and whipping around to see something the size of a baby elephant flying at them in an erratic sort of way. Its wingspan was roughly fifteen feet, and it was twittering madly, its enormous body oddly shapeless in the dark. The five Gryffindors and Luna scattered, yelling.

"Argh!"

"Run!"

"It's a Kacknarc!"

Harry tried to raise his wand but too late; he was knocked flat on his back by the large, feathery mass of the creature. It zoomed over and past him, still babbling incoherently in its own language.

Harry twisted around and took aim. _"Stup—"_

"No!" Ginny shrieked, knocking his wand down. "It's Pig!"

Sure enough, the freakish creature was not attacking, but flying round and round Harry and Ginny like an overexcited racehorse. At last, Pig landed and stuck out its leg, nearly decapitating Luna with his claws.

"Hermione must have sent it," Harry muttered, snatching the note from Pig's leg and glaring at it.

"She had to get a cat, didn't she?" Ginny said. "Couldn't get an owl, could she? No, she figured it'd be just fine to borrow other people's owls instead. Good plan, Hermione. Makes perfect sense."

"Nothing has made sense in a very long time," Harry said wearily.

"What's it say?" Luna asked curiously as Pig took flight again, heading back to Hagrid's. Harry cleared his throat and read it aloud.

_Dear Harry,_

_Ron has betrayed us. The twins carried Malfoy and me into the forest and left us there; they stole Draco's wand. I already have a plan for revenge, but it involves Dean, Seamus and Neville. You have to keep them out of the dormitory. Meet me at the broom shed by the Quidditch pitch, and I'll explain everything. Come as fast as you can._

_Love from,_

_Hermione_

_P.S. I hope it didn't startle you too badly to see Pig flying at you._

"That's putting it mildly," Seamus growled, glaring after Pig.

"What's this about us being involved, then?" Dean asked.

"I don't know," Harry said, stuffing the note in his pocket along with the map. "You best come with us to the broom shed."

"Why the broom shed?" Ginny wondered, frowning. "Surely she's not thinking of flying… she hates flying."

"Who knows? Come on," Harry said, already striding across the lawn. Ginny and Luna hurried after him.

Dean, Seamus and Neville looked at each other. "What do you think?" Dean asked. "Should we go?"

"Hell yeah," Seamus said gleefully. "This ought to be good."


	40. Brilliant

**Chapter Thirty-nine**

_Brilliant_

Harry, Dean, Seamus, Neville, and Ginny stood rather still, staring openmouthed at Hermione with odd expressions. "What?" Hermione asked. "It's a good plan, guys. It'll work."

"Of course it will," Draco said, already relishing the look soon to be on Ron's face.

Luna, who had paused on their journey to the broom shed to examine a rock that looked rather like a Finnish Mimic, wandered over at last and looked from the gaping Gryffindors to Hermione and Draco. Even Luna registered shock at their appearance; Hermione and Draco were both half-dressed and covered in dirt, cuts, grass, leaves, and twigs, with their hair sticking out wildly and their mouths fixed in cheerful smiles. Hovering a few feet behind them was an acromantula as big as Ginny.

"Wrackspurt got you?" Luna asked, looking concerned and sympathetic.

"What?" Draco said, looking around nervously.

"No—we're fine," Hermione said with a smile. "I'm not sure they are, though." She nodded at Harry and the others. "They haven't said a word and they won't stop staring at me funny."

"We… I…" Harry shook his head as if to knock his thoughts out of his ears. "Hermione… are you _cooperating_ with _Malfoy?"_

"We made a truce, Harry," Hermione said with a shrug. "It's no big deal."

"We still hate each other," Draco added.

Harry chanted something under his breath that sounded like "The dreams aren't real… the dreams aren't real," but neither Hermione nor Draco appeared to hear him.

"So none of us should read anything into the fact that you two are happily working together after spending an hour alone in the forest and emerging with only half your clothes?" Luna asked.

"Of course not!" Hermione said, promptly looking horrified; Draco did as well. "Is _that_ why you all look like you've seen a ghost?" she demanded of Dean, Seamus, Neville, Harry and Ginny.

"Oh, come on," Draco said, grinning. "I'd never do anything like _that_ with _her._ I mean, she did try to seduce me for a minute there, but I told her that I prefer my women a little more virtuous and a whole lot better-looking and she backed off."

Hermione turned to glare at him, her wand held high. "Gee, Malfoy, want me to show you what an acromantula looks like when it's poisoning someone?"

"Oh, now look, I've offended her again," Draco said with a gusty sigh. "I'm sorry, Granger—I can't help it if I prefer girls from good families who don't sleep around, know how to use a hairbrush and realize that there's life outside the library."

"And I can't help it if I tell everyone I meet how terrified you are of the forest." Hermione waved her arms and assumed a mocking, scared expression, making her voice sound high and panicky. "Murderous centaur! Murderous centaur! Let me hide behind the Muggle-born girl who can kick my butt in every single class! I hope she can save me, because I don't think I can outrun the centaur, especially since I'm tired because I already ran like a terrified four-year-old from the big bad spider!"

Draco swelled indignantly and then tilted his head to the side, his hands clamped to his cheeks in a mockery of grief. "Oh, woe is me, I'm Hermione Granger, my boyfriend doesn't like me because I'm a lying tramp. Let me just sob hysterically for a while in the middle of a forest filled with dangerous creatures."

"I think we were worried about nothing," Ginny muttered to the others.

"I'd say so," Harry said, watching them bicker with a slight grin.

"Hey!" Ginny said loudly, stepping forward. "If you two are through, we should get on with this. You two should take Luna; you might need a spare wand, and I don't know what the twins did with Malfoy's."

"Good idea," Hermione said, turning away from Draco contemptuously, trying to disguise the fact that she couldn't think of a comeback. "I'll tell Luna on the way. You can fly, right, Luna?" She nodded. "Okay. Does everyone know what to do?" There was a general murmur of assent. "Make me proud, guys. Let's go."

Dean, Neville, Seamus, Harry, and Ginny headed off towards the castle. Hermione turned to the broom shed, raised her wand, and blew the door off the hinges.

"Harry and Ginny are dead wrong!" Fred insisted. "Come on, you lot remember us! _We're_ the masters of practical joking, not them!"

"If _we_ say there's a prank about to go down, there's a prank about to go down," George added.

The crowd of Gryffindors that had returned to the common room from the grounds eyed the twins suspiciously. "It doesn't matter anyway," said one of Ginny's roommates with a slightly sullen air. "We'd get caught if we left again now. It's too close to curfew."

Muttering irritably, the Gryffindors turned towards their rooms. Before anyone had gone far, however, a first year by the window pointed out to the grounds and yelled, "Look!"

There was a mad scramble for the windows. A dazzling display of light and color lit up the path to Hagrid's, turning the Whomping Willow shades of bright pink and orange. Fred, George and Ron exchanged uneasy glances; they had sent everyone outside in the hopes that Hermione and Draco would be seen leaving the forest, and therefore be incredibly humiliated. This wasn't at all what they'd expected.

"D'you think that's her?" Ron muttered quietly.

"Could be," Fred said. "But I doubt it."

"Maybe it's just another prank, a coincidence," George suggested.

"But I doubt it," Fred repeated.

The portrait hole swung open, and everyone in the common room turned to look as Dean, Seamus, Ginny, Harry, and Neville came in, all covered in globs of some sticky substance the same color as the lights below.

"All right, I admit it," Harry said heavily. "I was wrong."

"There was a huge explosion," Neville said, his eyes wide as though in awe.

"Who did it?" someone called from the crowd by the window.

Harry shrugged. "No idea."

"Tell us everything!" Lavender said, pushing her way through the others to reach Harry.

"I need a shower first," Harry said firmly, and he headed for the boys' dormitory with Dean, Seamus and Neville while Ginny went to her own room.

"This doesn't look good," Fred said darkly.

"It'll work," Ron said firmly. "If anyone else sees those lights, they might head down there and check it out, and run into her."

"And if nothing else," George said thoughtfully, "we could always just do this to them again."

"Now there's a thought," Fred said with a grin.

* * *

Harry threw open the dormitory window. Hermione and Draco were floating on a broomstick just outside it, the acromantula still floating above them. Luna was just behind them, humming quietly while playing with her butterbeer cork necklace. 

"Got the cloak?" Hermione asked in low, urgent tones.

Neville ran up behind Harry, holding up the silvery invisibility cloak. "All right," Hermione said tersely. "Stand back."

Hermione directed the spider in through the window and steered it carefully onto Ron's bed before flipping it over. Looking disgusted and reluctant but still determined, Harry took the cloak and flung it over the spider. Then he picked up his trunk, which had been repacked, and tapped it with his wand to shrink it.

"Here," he said, handing the book-sized trunk to Hermione. "Stick this in the guest room for me, eh?"

"All right," Hermione said, giving him an apologetic look. She handed him Ron's things, which she'd grabbed from the guest room by flying in through the window on her way up. Harry returned them to their rightful size and place by Ron's bed. "Everyone ready for phase two?"

"Yeah," Dean, Seamus, Neville and Harry chorused.

"Okay, then—go for it."

Harry checked one last time to make sure that the acromantula was completely invisible before turning to the door. The four guys headed back downstairs.

"This really is brilliant," Draco said gleefully, rubbing his hands together (and then putting them back on the broom when Hermione yelped).

"Thanks," Hermione said in surprise.

"I wasn't complimenting you," Draco snapped.

"Whatever." Rolling her eyes, Hermione turned to Luna. "If it's okay with you, Luna, you'd best head back to your own common room. We probably shouldn't let Ron know you're involved, and you'll need a good alibi."

"All right," Luna said serenely. "Do tell me how it turned out."

"We'll give you a full report," Hermione promised, and Luna flew off towards the west side of the castle.

* * *

"So what now?" Ron wondered aloud, just as Harry, Dean, Seamus and Neville burst back into the common room looking terrified. 

"Guys!" Harry hissed, sending a quick look around the room to make sure that no one was watching. "Hermione and Malfoy are in the dormitory, looking murderous! They're destroying your stuff! Hermione keeps growling about you three!"

"Make her stop!" Dean added angrily. "I think she's destroyed my West Ham poster."

"And my _Mimbulus mimbletonia,"_ Neville whimpered. "She's _really_ angry…"

Fred and George were already on their way to the stairs, Ron right behind. Shooting a triumphant look at Dean, Seamus and Neville, Harry signaled to Ginny, who was hiding on the girls' dormitory staircase. The four boys followed the twins and Ron, Ginny sneaking along behind.

Flinging open the door to the seventh years' room, Fred and George burst inside, intending to confront—or perhaps gloat over—Hermione. Ron pushed his way past them, looking around.

"Where is she?" Ron demanded, turning back to the door just as Harry pulled it shut. "Harry! What—"

_"Colloportus!"_ Harry shouted, and the door sealed with a squelching noise.

George grabbed the handle and yanked but to no avail. He gave up rather quickly, however, when another voice floated in from the window.

_"Accio cloak!"_

Something large and dark came into view on Ron's bed, but the three Weasleys had fixed their attention on the window. Hermione was clutching Harry's invisibility cloak and floating on a broomstick outside the window, Draco sitting behind her, both of their faces shining victoriously.

"Hi, boys," Hermione said with a purely terrifying smile, rather like one Carrie would have made if she'd smiled after the pig's blood had been dropped at the prom. She raised her wand once more, pointing it at Ron's bed. _"Exsuscito!"_

The three boys whipped around, their eyes widening in horror as they caught sight of the four-foot-tall spider now clicking its pincers at them, pushing itself up on its eight legs.

"Payback time, boys," Hermione called cheerfully, then yanked the window shut as the acromantula attacked and the screaming began.

* * *

"We pranked Fred and George," Dean whispered in awe, looking dazed. "We'll go down in history for this." 

"Not if we don't get away with it," Neville said nervously.

"So what happens now?" Seamus asked, grinning as they listened to the screaming.

"Phase three," Harry reminded him. "Dean, Seamus, Neville—you know what to do. Ginny—with me."

* * *

McGonagall sighed as she approached the seventh floor. She had been attempting to weasel answers out of Albus; Severus had disappeared again, and no one seemed to know where he'd gone. If Albus knew, he wasn't telling—and she was pretty sure that was the case. She figured she'd pick up Severus's trail in the morning; for now, she was going back to her private quarters for some rest. 

As she neared the top of the stairs, she caught sight of Dean, Seamus and Neville racing down them. "Longbottom!" she yelled, and Neville spun and nearly fell. Seamus grabbed his arm to steady him. "Finnigan, Thomas—where do you think you're going this late?"

"To get you!" Dean gasped, breathing hard. "The door to our dormitory is sealed, and we can hear Ron inside it, screaming, with a couple of other people. There's another weird noise but we're not sure what it is…"

McGonagall moved passed them and headed for Gryffindor tower, leaving the three boys to catch their breath on the stairs. (They were on the verge of collapse, seeing as how they'd run up to the tower from the grounds, up seven flights of the boys' stairs, down the stairs, up them again, and down them again before reaching the seventh-floor corridor.)

"What have they done now?" McGonagall muttered to herself, picturing Poppy's reaction to admitting Potter, Weasley and Granger to the hospital wing yet again, along with Malfoy, probably. Poppy was already in a bad temper at the moment, considering that Severus's new personality transplant meant he lived in some alternate reality where he wasn't supposed to be brewing potions for Poppy to help with things like flu season.

McGonagall stalked past the crowd of Gryffindors in the common room and up the stairs without sparing much thought for why they were all staring fixedly out the windows. As she neared the top of the staircase, frantic shouts reached her ears.

"ARGH!"

"HELP!"

"I HATE SPIDERS!"

"I'll kill you all!"

Sighing, McGonagall raised her wand and cast a spell to discover the door's enchantments—_Colloportus._ A moment later, the counter spell was cast and the door swung open to reveal a comical but frightening scene.

Fred, George and Ron Weasley were running about like Chicken Little during an apocalypse, firing spells around the room at a small acromantula who was chasing them about, rasping out death threats as it clicked its pincers hungrily. The jets of multicolored light from the spells made the room look like a discothèque gone horribly wrong.

"Kill it… kill it!"

"I don't know how!"

"Why didn't I pay more attention to Hagrid?"

"You will all die horribly for this!"

McGonagall crouched low and aimed at the spider's underside. _"Stupefy!"_

The three boys stopped running as the spider fell over. Looking around in relief and shaking badly (the front of Ron's robes were actually quite wet, as though he'd had an accident) their eyes fell on the professor.

"Thank you!" Fred wailed, running forward and throwing his arms around her, followed quickly by his two brothers.

"Thank you thank you thank you! Oh, we forgive you for the singing!" George said.

"Get off! For heaven's sake, get hold of yourself!" McGonagall barked, thoroughly nonplussed. They stepped back hastily. "Does someone want to tell me what happened here?"

"It was Hermione!" Fred exclaimed immediately.

"And Malfoy!"

"And Harry!"

"And Ginny!"

"And probably Dean, Seamus and Neville!"

"How, exactly, did this happen? That's an acromantula… one would have to go into the Forbidden Forest to secure one of those…"

"Er… then that's what they must've done!" Fred said quickly. McGonagall raised a suspicious eyebrow but said nothing. "Harry, Ginny, Dean, Seamus and Neville came in, and they all went to their rooms, but Harry, Dean, Seamus and Neville came back down and said Hermione was in here trashing the place and we ran up to stop her and Harry locked us in."

"And the spider was under Harry's cloak so we couldn't see it," George added. "Hermione was on a broomstick outside the window, and she used her wand to Summon the cloak off the spider, and then she and Malfoy flew off."

"And—" Ron began, then suddenly turned away and retched violently.

"Do you have any proof?" McGonagall asked.

"Well… Hermione and Draco looked like they'd been in the forest," Fred said slowly. "They had dirt and leaves all over themselves."

McGonagall sighed. "To the hospital wing, all of you. I'm not certain, but I believe acromantulas can spit poison; you might have been infected. At the very least, you look like you could use a Calming Draught. I'll go find Hagrid and deal with Miss Granger and Mr. Potter."

The three of them nodded and, still trembling, headed back downstairs. McGonagall cast a binding spell on the spider, just in case, and then headed for the guest room.

"Love and bunnies," she called at the wall. As it slid open, she cast a stern look at the students in the common room to make sure no one followed, then approached the portrait.

"Password?" the painting asked.

"Prank war." All teachers were privileged to every password in the castle.

"Sorry, it was just changed."

Having no idea what the new password was, she instead elected to use the password given personally to the professors for just such a situation, which would open any password-protected wall and was assigned by Dumbledore. "Catwoman," she said heavily.

"Right, professor." The portrait swung open.

McGonagall looked around. There were the two beds, standing a few feet from each other, both unmade. Hermione and Draco were sitting at the table, yelling at each other, books scattered between them.

"Loser!"

"Know-it-all!"

"Wimp!"

"Freak!"

"Idiot!"

"Granger! Malfoy!"

The two of them turned from their heated argument and looked around at McGonagall. "Professor!" Hermione said in surprise. "Is something wrong?"

"What do you know about the acromantula in Weasley's dormitory?" McGonagall barked.

"What's an acromaculad?" Draco asked.

"There's an acromantula in Ron's dormitory?" Hermione repeated in alarm. "Is he all right?"

"He's fine," McGonagall said suspiciously. "Badly shaken, but fine."

"He hates spiders," Hermione said worriedly. "Are you sure he's okay?"

"Weasley hates spiders?" Draco said gleefully. "What a wimp!"

"Hey, Hermione—ready to go to sleep?" said Harry, coming out of the bathroom in his bathrobe. He stopped at the sight of McGonagall. "Professor? What's going on?"

"What are you doing in here?" McGonagall asked.

"I've been staying in here," Harry said with a shrug. "Sleeping on the couch and keeping Hermione company. She fights with Malfoy too much if I'm not here to fight with him for her."

"The Weasley twins claim that you set an acromantula loose in your dormitory."

"What? Why would I do that?" Harry spluttered. "I hate acromantulas. Call me crazy, but ever since they tried to kill me, I've steered clear of them. How did it get in the dormitory?"

"That's what I'd like to know," McGonagall said. "They claim Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy flew up to the window on a broomstick."

"But I _hate_ flying!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Tell me about it," Draco muttered sourly.

"I wouldn't fly all the way up here! That would scare me to death. Ask anyone—Professor Wood knows, and Madam Hooch…"

"And I'm never getting back on a broom with her again," Draco said darkly.

"Are… are you sure it wasn't one of the twins?" Hermione asked tentatively. "Ron told me the reason he hates spiders is because Fred turned his teddy bear into a spider once. Maybe it was their way of pranking him—you know how they are."

McGonagall knew that made perfect sense—but she also knew it was certain that the three people in front of her were the culprits. "I suppose all three of you can account for your whereabouts this evening?" she inquired, the ghost of a smile on her lips.

"Malfoy and I have been here all afternoon," Hermione said, also smiling slightly. "I told Ron I wanted to go research the chain more in the library; time's running out before Christmas. Harry just got back from his detention; he was covered in some strange globs of paint or something and he went straight for the shower."

"We'll let you know if we hear anything, though," Harry said.

"I'm sure you will," McGonagall said with a small laugh. "Now, then—you three wouldn't happen to know where Severus is, would you?"

"No," Harry said with a sigh. "After my detention I saw him heading for Hogsmeade, though, and I followed him—but he Apparated as soon as he was past the winged boars."

"So he probably wasn't going to Hogsmeade," McGonagall said thoughtfully. "All right, then… he must be going to visit a friend who lives farther away."

"Snape has friends?" Harry blurted out.

"Yes," McGonagall said with a slight smile. "He may be a rude overgrown bully, but even rude overgrown bullies have friends."

"Kind of like Malfoy," Hermione said thoughtfully before she could stop herself.

"Hey!" Draco growled.

"If you'll excuse me," McGonagall said, turning to leave with a grin. "I've the matter of this acromantula to sort out. I also need to inform Albus that you three have alibis and couldn't possibly have been involved. Oh, and by the way—if you're going to put dangerous creatures in your friends' beds, try to make sure they aren't poisonous, won't you?"

"Sorry," Hermione said sheepishly.

McGonagall chuckled. "You really _do_ remind me of myself at your age, Miss Granger," McGonagall said, then turned and left.

"She… she knows? She knows and she's not going to punish us?" Draco breathed, looking scandalized and indignant.

"Doesn't surprise me," Hermione admitted. "After all, she figured out the Quidditch goalpost prank."

"She _knew_ it was you?" Draco shouted.

"Of course she did. She helped pull off the same prank on my dad when he was seventeen," Harry said with a smirk.

"Looks like we've gotten away with this, too," Hermione said with a yawn. "Now come on, I've got to get some sleep, I'm exhausted."

The three of them headed to the bathroom. Hermione checked her hair again and, discovering that she'd missed a few twigs with her cleaning spells, she insisted on getting in the shower. Wearily Harry drew up a chair, and Draco Summoned one from the bedroom (the chairs he could conjure had a tendency to dump the user maliciously).

"So what do you think of this Snape-having-friends thing?" Harry called to Hermione over the noise of the shower.

"Now that I think of it, there's no reason he wouldn't have friends," Hermione said. "He may be a jerk to us, but he's nice to the Slytherins."

"Of course he has friends," Draco said with a snort. "A lot of them, actually."

"You knew that?" Harry demanded.

"Of course I did. He was close with my father," Draco replied. "My father had connections all over the world—and Snape was part of his circle of friends. My mother always said Snape was one of her favorite people, and Fudge was fond of him too."

"And obviously _they're_ great judges of character," Harry muttered sarcastically, rubbing the faint outline of the scar Umbridge had forced him to cut into his hand.

"Snape could be going anywhere, from London to Australia," Draco continued with a yawn. "Hurry up in there, would you, Granger?"

Hermione shut off the water and reached for her towel. "We should make a list of everyone he knows. Friends, acquaintances—"

"Not tonight," Harry complained. "I'm tired. In fact, we should leave it for a few more days. I thought we were going to try to research the chain and see if we could get it off before Christmas?"

"Yeah," Draco grumbled. "I don't want that filthy Mudblood in my h—OW!"

"Oops," Harry said innocently.

"You're right," Hermione said loudly, trying to stop another fight. "We've got a lot of research to do and I'm exhausted. It'll have to wait."

"Why does it even matter?" Draco demanded. After the Cheese Spirit incident, he rather felt the Snape mess was best left alone.

"It… well, aren't you curious?" Hermione asked, emerging from the shower dried and dressed in her nightgown.

"Not really," Draco said bluntly. "I'd just as soon ignore it. So he's acting weird. So what?"

Harry and Hermione frowned. "That's just not the way it works," Hermione said loftily.

"Excuse me, but don't you think you're a bit old to be forming some cheesy detective club?" Draco retorted. "I mean, come on. It's none of our business if he's gone a bit funny."

"A _bit?"_ Harry repeated incredulously. "He's lost his frigging mind!"

"Let's talk about it tomorrow," Hermione said, interrupting Draco. "We're all tired and we've got a lot of books to read if we want to have any hopes of removing this chain."

"And there's the small matter of Ron's retaliation," Harry pointed out.

"A very small matter," Draco said derisively.

"Let's hope so," Harry muttered.

* * *

"We're talking major mayhem here. They have to DIE for this," Fred growled angrily. 

"Humiliation factor's just gone up. We're talking every person on the planet's gonna see this," George added darkly.

"What are we going to do?" Ron asked shakily.

"Oh, we know _exactly_ what we're going to do," Fred said.

"So tell me."

"Not in the hallway, you idiot. Anyone could be listening."

Dean, Seamus and Neville had just started back up the steps when they heard Fred, George and Ron approaching, talking in loud, pissed-off voices. "Phase four," Neville whispered, and Dean and Seamus nodded.

"What are you lot doing down here?" Fred demanded, glaring at them as he rounded the corner with his brothers.

"After Harry tried to open the door, we went to find McGonagall," Neville explained, looking worried. "Are you guys all right? What happened?"

"Tried to open the door?" George demanded. "He's the one who sealed it shut!"

"Harry wouldn't do that," Dean said, frowning. "He cast about fourteen spells on it before telling us to go get McGonagall while he kept trying."

"You expect us to believe that?" Ron demanded.

"What d'you mean?" Seamus asked. "We were trying to help, mate. Did McGonagall get to you in time? You weren't hurt?"

The three Weasleys looked at each other. Fred nodded grudgingly. "I don't suppose they would have gone for her if they were in on it," he said. "They're probably telling the truth."

"Of course we are!" Neville said indignantly. "Harry might be our friend, but you are too!"

"What, do you think we'd hear you screaming hysterically and not try and do something?" Seamus asked.

"Thanks," Ron said gratefully. "I'm going to kill Hermione… how could she, she knows I don't like spiders…"

"If it hadn't been us, it would have been a bloody good prank," George said grudgingly. "I wish we'd have thought of it."

"We've already thought of something better," Fred reminded him. "Now come on, I've got to get Hagrid before that thing wakes up."

Before any of them could take a step, however, a loud, inhuman screeching met their ears. "What now?" Ron moaned… just as a giant pink-and-orange beast flew round the corner, straight at him. "ARGH!"

The three Weasleys took off screaming for the second time in less than an hour, leaving Dean, Seamus and Neville behind. The three of them grinned as the flying monster chased Ron, Fred and George around and around the seventh floor.

"Hermione really is brilliant," Dean said appreciatively as he, Seamus and Neville stood back to watch.

"Yeah," Neville said. "Who else would have thought to cover Pig in that magical paint of hers and set him loose in the castle?"


	41. Ron's Retaliation

**Chapter Forty**

_Ron's Retaliation_

The gigantic multicolored Pig wasn't stopped for nearly an hour, by which time everyone in Gryffindor tower had taken to watching from the portrait hole (once they were alerted to the event by Fred, George and Ron's screams) and the Ravenclaws were doing likewise in their tower on the west side of the castle. Dean, Seamus and Neville were unable to make it back through the seventh-floor corridor (or rather, they were unwilling to risk life and limb to try), and exhausted as they were, had fallen asleep on the stairs, Neville's snores drowned out by Pig's squawking and the Weasleys' screaming. Unfortunately, McGonagall was currently at Hagrid's hut, as Hagrid was the only staff member with experience with acromantulas, so she was unaware of the situation. It was Trelawney who put a stop to it; she emerged from her lodgings in North Tower, wearing her dressing gown and looking thoroughly annoyed, to find the Weasleys howling hysterically and Pig twittering along behind as though he thought they were all playing some demented game of tag. She went straight for the headmaster. Once Dumbledore subdued the overgrown owl and returned it to its proper color, he was forced to send someone else down to fetch Hagrid from Hogsmeade and a few groups of students from the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw common rooms to catch the twins and Ron, who were still running around and around the seventh floor in a panic.

At last, a slightly tipsy Hagrid was leaving with Pig on a leash and the acromantula slung over a shoulder, the three Weasleys were escorted to the hospital wing by a few prefects, and everyone was sent back to bed, at which point Lavender Brown, the Patil twins, and a few other girls cornered Neville before he could get to the portrait hole and began the process of threatening him to extract information. Neville caved rather quickly, tired as he was, and before long he began telling the story with gusto, relishing the girls' impressed, even admiring looks.

By morning, the story was that Hermione and Draco had been stranded in the forest and had returned fire with the help of Harry and Ginny (leaving out the names of Neville, Dean, Seamus and Luna had been a condition of Neville's when finally saying he'd tell the girls everything, and they kept their word, hoping for more inside information in the future). To the disappointment of Fred, George and Ron, no one seemed to think there was much credit to be given regarding their prank on Hermione and Draco, but everyone agreed that the spider and the owl had been absolutely brilliant.

Madam Pomfrey normally would have kept the three boys for at least twenty-four hours upon hearing that they'd been attacked by an acromantula and a cursed owl, but she was so tired of the frequent sight of Ron and so nonplussed by the twins' cameo that she sent them all back first thing in the morning after giving them a quick but thorough once-over. Ron attempted to get through to the guest room only to discover that the password had been changed, and he marched angrily back up to his dormitory, cautiously opened the door, and found his things back at the foot of his bed while Harry's were missing—a fact he hadn't noticed while running from the spider. The message Harry and Hermione were sending was clear.

"When do we strike next?" Ron asked his brothers, flinging himself on his bed after checking to be sure that everyone else had left for breakfast.

"Er…" The twins looked at each other. "Well," said Fred, "last night, after you fell asleep, we got to talking and… we think it'd be best if we left now."

_"What?"_ Ron bellowed.

"Well… we're arousing suspicion, you know…"

"Bull! You're just scared of getting pranked again!"

"Us? Scared? Ha! Of course we're not scared," George insisted, but he didn't quite look sincere. "Listen… we'll help you pull off the retaliation prank, and then we'll leave. That way, by the time it sets in, no one will suspect you, because you'll have an alibi—"

"And we'll be back in Diagon Alley," Fred continued. "After that… well, our little _friend_ knows what to do come Monday morning." He grinned evilly. "The prank's going to take a good long while to wear off, especially since it's difficult to remove without an antidote and Snape's run off again."

"Pomfrey doesn't have any, either," George added. "We checked when we were in the hospital wing. Odd, considering it's something that she had to treat you for."

"She had to bring it up from Snape's office when I got hit with it," Ron said. "I remember her saying that some magic is so advanced that she asks Snape to hang on to a lot of its antidotes, as her cabinet space is crowded and it's rare that anyone inside Hogwarts would get hit with a spell or swallow a potion that we weren't taught about in class."

"That's good then," Fred said. "All right. You stay here—or better yet, go to the common room or the library. Then people will see you and be able to confirm you couldn't possibly have done it."

"How are you going to avoid being seen?" Ron asked suspiciously.

Fred went over to a small suitcase he'd brought over from his home and pulled out two Headless Hats. "We'll put these on and hit them from the hall. Then even if someone sees us, they won't be able to identify us. We're not going to leave through the front door—we're going to take the secret passage into Honeydukes."

"We've already nicked some robes from the laundry," George added, pulling them out of his own suitcase and stuffing them into his jacket. "This way we'll look like students."

"Hang on," Ron said slowly. "How are they going to know who it is, if we're being so careful to avoid being seen?"  
"They'll know," Fred promised. "Harry, Hermione and Malfoy aren't going to have any doubt. And we're hoping to pass it along from them, although a lot of people will probably figure it out on their own."

"What about Ginny?"

"No… trust us about Ginny," George said.

"Sparing Ginny could be a really good move on our part," Fred added.

"Besides which, it'll be even more hysterical if someone close to them is unaffected."

"Yeah, then they'll be running around trying to sort it out."

"Okay," Ron said, standing up. "This better be as good a prank as you say it will be."

"Oh, don't worry," Fred said, his eyes glinting evilly. "No one will forget this for a good long while."

* * *

Harry, Hermione and Draco were once again sitting at the Gryffindor table with their wands out, joined by Neville, as he too was trying to avoid gossip hounds after revealing last night's secrets, and Ginny and Luna, both of whom were listening raptly to the dramatic tales regarding the newest installment in the prank war. It was rather early on a Sunday to be at breakfast; only a few small groups of students sat at each table, and the teachers had yet to show up (most of them were becoming increasingly ragged as the prank war progressed). Harry, Hermione, Draco, Ginny, Neville and Luna were having a blast, hyped up on laughter and the events of the previous evening. Even with the low attendance there was still plenty of noise in the Great Hall to cover their conversation, and few people bothered them. Most everyone was used to the fact that Harry, Hermione, Draco and Ginny weren't going to be giving away any information and everyone was too busy discussing their own versions of the most recent pranks or planning the upcoming holidays to consider badgering Harry and the others. 

So the six of them had a long, lighthearted talk over their breakfast, all of them in great spirits, even Draco. While the four Gryffindors and Luna weren't exactly friendly to him, they weren't ignoring him, and they laughed occasionally when he related something particularly funny. He didn't even care that a lot of these moments had him as the butt of the joke; it was enough for him to be acknowledged, and even though he couldn't stand any of them he felt a surge of relief that at least he was no longer going to be bored out of his skull by a lack of interactive conversation. He wasn't happy, but it _was_ an improvement, and he couldn't help but feel good when he imagined the horror Ron must have felt during the acromantula incident.

"So how did you know it was Ronald who stranded you in the forest?" Luna asked with interest.

"What do you mean, how did we know it was Ron? Of course it was him. The evidence fits," Hermione said.

"That doesn't mean he did it," Luna said calmly. "Evidence can be misleading."

"Trust us, Luna," Harry said. "It was him."

Luna shrugged, smiled in her distinctly not-quite-there manner, and took her leave. "Why do you hang out with her?" Draco asked, curious rather than condescending.

"She's quite lovely, once you get to know her," Hermione said, but her tone suggested that she didn't always think so. "Now… where were we?"

"The part where you set off the explosion out on the grounds," Ginny said eagerly, and they resumed the talk of the prank.

There was no warning, save a flash of light caught out of the corner of the eye, striking Harry in the side of the head. The moment it hit Hermione was on her feet, but the second spell got her squarely in the face before she could draw her wand, and the third struck Draco.

_"Protego!"_ Ginny shouted, leaping up from her seat under cover of her Shield Charm, but she only caught a glimpse of two headless figures in school robes before the culprits vanished up the marble staircase. Realizing they'd be long gone before she could get to the doors and it would be useless to try and catch them, she turned instead to Harry, Hermione and Draco. "Are you all right?" she asked in concern.

The three of them stared at her blankly. Then, as one, they all burst out laughing.

Ginny and Neville looked at each other nervously, then back at Harry, Hermione and Draco as they cackled like hyenas. "What's so funny?" Neville asked uncertainly.

This seemed to make them laugh harder. For a very long time, they continued to laugh loudly, until quite a few people in the vicinity were staring. "That's FUNNY!" Hermione yelled, pointing at Ginny wildly, whacking Harry upside the head on accident.

"Ow!" Harry said through his laughter, and Hermione and Draco pointed at him and laughed harder.

"I hate you!" Draco yelled suddenly, still laughing and pointing at Harry.

"I hate you too!" Harry gasped, as though this was some sort of revelation about the things they had in common. The three finally ceased their laughter, looking at each other with wide eyes.

"We hate each other!" Draco agreed, nodding seriously.

Hermione suddenly threw an arm around Harry's shoulders and her other around Draco's. "Let's hate each other together, okay?"

"We're a team now," Harry added happily.

"Yes, we're a team of… of…" Draco frowned and Harry and Hermione followed suit. "Well, we're a team," Draco finished with a shrug, brightening.

"Is… do you think… wow," Neville said, casting a suspicious glance behind him at Luna, remembering her hysterical mirth at one of Ron's jokes on the train before fifth year.

Harry, Hermione and Draco began rocking from side to side. "We're a teeeeaaamm," Hermione sang. "A team of… people who… um, hate each other…"

"We need a name!" Harry announced. "Like… like… um…"

"Fantastic Four is already taken," Hermione said sadly.

"Plus there's only three of us," Harry agreed.

"I've got it!" Draco exclaimed. "We'll call ourselves the Gobstones Club!"

"Er… I think that's taken too," Harry said apologetically.

"Yes, but there aren't too many people in the Gobstones Club," Draco countered. "We could beat them all up and make them give up their name!"

"YEAH!" Harry and Hermione yelled.

By now, most of the Great Hall was watching them curiously (save the members of the Gobstones Club, who were looking nervous and wondering if they should run for it or not).

"I'm really getting sick of the prank war," Ginny said with a sigh. "It may be funny, but I'm rather sick of the backlash."

Hermione gasped in shock. "But the prank war is awesome!"

"Yeah, it is!" Draco insisted.

Hermione and Draco looked at Harry expectantly. "Sorry, I'm with Ginny," he said sheepishly.

"Oh," Hermione said, turning back to Ginny with a broad smile, her arms still around Draco and Harry's shoulders. "Want to be on our team, Gin?" she asked, squeezing the two guys closer to her. They grinned up at her stupidly.

"No, thanks," Ginny said dryly. "I want to figure out just what you guys got hit with."

"Well, you're not gonna!" Draco yelled. "I'll be all sad and moping again if you fix me!"

"And I'll be not really caring," Ginny said. "I think you've been cursed with that same spell the Death Eaters used on Ron in the Department of Mysteries—"

"The one that made him go all funny and Summon that brain that tried to kill him?" Neville asked in alarm.

Ginny nodded grimly. "So this is probably Ron's fault, somehow." She ignored the instant reaction to this as various people looked at each other in excitement; she knew she had just given Ron a lot of credit amongst the other students, but she was pretty sure that she could keep it from getting out of hand.

"Well, let's go kill him!" Harry said, as though suggesting they go for a walk around the lake.

"YEAH!" Hermione and Draco shouted. Before anyone could stop them, they were running out of the hall, cackling once more.

"Wait!" Ginny exclaimed, starting to follow them. She tripped in her haste and nearly pitched headfirst into the platters of food; Neville quickly reached out to steady her. Cursing, Ginny looked up; Harry, Hermione and Draco were gone.

"This probably isn't going to end well," Ginny said in the ensuing silence. She sighed as whispers broke out all over the hall. "Are you with me, Neville?" she asked.

Neville nodded. "Of course I am."

"Then get ready. This is really going to suck."

* * *

Oliver stretched his arms over his head, yawning widely as he headed for the door. He would still make it to breakfast if he was lucky. 

As soon as he pulled open his door, strange shouts met his ears. He looked around just in time to see Harry, Hermione and Draco running along the corridor, all of them with their arms outstretched as they screamed "Whee!" happily like children taking their first broom ride. They grinned gleefully as their robes flapped about them.

Oliver blinked, trying to process this new strange event through his early-morning fog. When he couldn't quite manage it, he simply stepped back and shut and bolted the door. Today was going to be one of those days, and that meant he had to do one very important thing—hide.

* * *

Everything was bright and shiny and new for Hermione. The castle was so pretty! Why hadn't she noticed it before? Probably because she'd been so sad. But now she was happy! Everything was so funny! She felt like she was being tickled by some invisible creature. She felt like she was floating! 

Before she knew it, she was running with her arms flung outward, racing down the corridors, her robes flying behind her. "WHEE!" she yelled.

Draco and Harry copied her. "I'm flying!" Hermione shouted. "I'm Peter Pan!"

"Me too!" said Draco.

"No, you're Wendy!" Hermione said angrily. "I'M Peter!"

"But Peter was cooler!" Draco whined, stopping. Hermione turned to face him as he pouted. Harry helpfully ran around them in circles.

"You're more of a Captain Hook," Hermione said gently. "You're… you're not a Peter Pan type."

"No fair!" Draco stamped his foot. "I never get to be the good guy. It's always, 'oh, let's do something evil,' cuz I'm not Peter, I'm the dude who gets eaten by an alligator!"

"Crocodile!" Harry corrected cheerfully as he wheeled round them again, narrowly missing a suit of armor, which leaned out of the way just in time.

"I don't _wanna_ get eaten by a crocodile! I wanna save the world and be all happy! But no, I have to be the good little Death Eater's son! It's no fair! Sometimes I get tired of being evil. It's not easy, you know. Everybody hates me. 'Cept the Slytherins, and a lot of them don't like me too! Now I don't even have a lot of nifty connections in the Ministry cuz my dad had to broadcast the fact that _he's a friggin' lunatic_ before the idiot got himself killed! I wanted to save the world, you know. That's why I tried to be Potter's friend at first. I wanted to be in the in-crowd. Wanted all that glory. Wanted everyone to say 'hey, look, there goes that kid who saved the world!' BUT NO! I'm… I'm… _Captain Hook!"_

And then Draco did the unthinkable. Draco began to sob.

"There, there," Hermione said, unable to fathom what exactly was going on. _Captain Hook is a perfectly good character to be,_ Hermione thought. _Except for that whole evil-guy-who-dies thing… oh, wait!_ Realization dawning, she patted him on the head. "You're not going to die, Malfoy! At least, not for a very long time…"

"I'm going to die?" Draco yelped, looking up in a panic.

"NO! I just said you're _not_ going to die, silly! You're gonna live. But you're a bad guy. It's okay to be a bad guy. If there weren't bad guys, who would the good guys kill?"

"You're going to kill me?" Draco yelped louder.

"NO! Well, I don't think so, anyway. We only ever kill people who are going to try to take over the world and kill Muggles and Muggle-borns. Cuz, you know… well, I'm sure there's a very good reason why we do that… we, um… it's just what we do. So, we're not going to kill you. Um… not unless you are going to try to take over the world and kill people and stuff. You're not, are you?"

"No," Draco sniffled. "I was gonna once. But then I was all like, 'oh, hey, the Aurors will chop my head off' or 'oh, hey, prison doesn't look comfy.' And I was thinking, you know, it'd be nice to not be all associated with the bad guys just because your dad's a psycho killer. No one would hate you. Except, uh, the other evil people. It'd be real nice to have all that glory. You have glory, don't you? You even get fan mail. Letters that say, 'Thanks for saving the world.' What do I get? Huh? No glory. No fame. Just, 'there goes that evil bastard.' You know what? A few weeks ago this really rude first year threw a rock at me! And of course I cursed the little bugger, and then his friends were all like, 'oh, hey, you're really bad!' and I'm all like, 'no!' Actually I was all like, 'and don't you forget it, you little snots,' but that wasn't what I really meant. No one's ever nice to me, you know. 'Cept Snape, and you had to go and shag him and now he's gone all crazy."

"I never shagged Snape," Hermione couldn't resist saying, hesitant as she was to interrupt Draco's little monologue (she was of the belief that if she let him get it all out of his system, he'd stop his confusing babble and she could go back to running around happily).

"Yes, you did. I have to believe that you shagged him, Granger, because otherwise he just lost his marbles and hated me on his own—"

"Well, pranking him wasn't very nice—"

"And he _can't_ hate me on his own, no, he's the only teacher who likes me. Everyone else hates me. You know how hard it's going to be for me to get a job after Hogwarts? Very! Everyone knows I'm a Death Eater's kid. And the Ministry won't leave my mom alone, they keep coming by to annoy us and glare at us. And Crabbe and Goyle were all sad that they never got to fight in the war because, hey, you won the war before we could graduate, and they keep saying 'Stupid Gryffindors ruined our chances for world domination' and 'The Dark Lord was gonna give us Madagascar when he took over, and now we're gonna have to get jobs as janitors' and I have to nod and smile when they say that even though I know I'm gonna end up a janitor too! And you know what the worse part of life is? I'm BORED! Even the people I consider my friends won't come near me cuz they're all unhappy I've gotta sit with you and you know I'm going insane and I want to save the world! I want to be the cool one! Or at least rule Madagascar! But no, you had to go and save the world first! How rude was that?"

"Well… uh… you can save it with us next time," Hermione promised, trying to figure out how to placate him. It was now completely obvious that Draco was just a raving lunatic; she couldn't really comprehend most of his ramblings anymore, and she _really_ didn't see why he'd want to rule Madagascar with Crabbe and Goyle.

"Really?" Draco asked petulantly. "You'll let me save the world?"

"Um, okay."

"And give me all the glory and the fan mail and no jail cell and all that cool stuff?"

"We don't save the world for glory!" Harry said importantly on his thirty-ninth lap around Hermione and Draco. "We save the world because_ someone_ has to be the biggest, toughest, coolest, smartest—argh!" Harry cut himself off with a shout as he plunged headfirst into the suit of armor and both armor and Harry clattered to the floor in a heap. "Ow," he muttered from beneath the armor's legs.

"You can save the world," Hermione repeated, figuring it was best to calm Draco down and then figure out what he was going on about some other time. Right now, she just wanted to run round and yell "whee," not deal with some freakish rant. "That'll be our team's new purpose, okay? Every team has to have a purpose, you know."

"And a name!" Draco agreed, looking quite cheerful again.

"We're the Gobstones Club!" Hermione said happily. "At least, we will be, when we can beat up everyone in the Gobstones Club and they agree to give us their name."

"Right," Draco said, nodding as though this made perfect sense. "But… what'll we call ourselves until then?"

"Uh… the… the Save the World Club?" Hermione suggested.

"Okay. Potter, what do you think?"

"Grand!" Harry said, his voice echoing from beneath the armor.

"We're just like superheroes," Hermione joked weakly, wondering when Draco was going to start running again. She wanted to go have fun!

"Superheroes have their own names, though, don't they?" Draco said, looking as excited as a five-year-old presented with an ice cream cone. "Can we come up with names?"

"I suppose," Hermione said with a sigh.

"Hey, guys?" Harry called. "Er… could you help me out here? This armor's kind of heavy."


	42. General Ginny

**Chapter Forty-One**

_General Ginny_

Ginny closed her eyes, trying to collect herself. She was annoyed, she was tired—she hadn't been able to sleep after last night's escapade—and she was sick of the prank war. There had always been very few things you could count on to remain constant at Hogwarts, such as McGonagall's strictness and Snape's cruelty, but even those things had shattered, leaving her with a sense that the castle had been turned upside down or perhaps cast into an alternate dimension. Ginny was becoming more and more upset and chasing after Harry and Hermione wasn't going to improve her mood.

Still, it was what she had to do, given the unspoken laws of friendship—which thankfully hadn't been tossed out the window along with the rest of the universal truths. She had to go stop them before they got hurt. The charm was most assuredly one of the illegal spells that had been banned decades ago because of the dangerous mind-altering effects. Harry, Hermione and Draco had no judgment right now, no sense of limitations—which meant that if they got the bright idea to think they could fly without a broom, they'd race each other to the top of the astronomy tower and jump right off.

Ginny opened her eyes and looked around, plans already forming. They knew Snape was gone again, possibly for the weekend, and none of the other teachers had arrived. That left her with the small group of people who would be willing to help her and able to stop Hermione, Harry and Draco if need be. The seventh-year Ravenclaws were all out; Michael Corner wasn't too fond of Ginny, and neither were his friends. They would help Harry in an instant, but they wouldn't even acknowledge her existence if she went over to ask them for help. That left her with Ernie Macmillan and his posse of seventh-year Hufflepuffs—Hannah Abbot, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Susan Bones—and Dean, Seamus, Neville, and Luna.

"Joy," Ginny muttered, her eyes locking on to Dean and Seamus. "Neville?" He looked up at her. "Go get Luna, please, and ask her to help." He nodded and hurried towards the Ravenclaw table. Ginny turned around, throwing her leg over the bench and nearly knocking over Lavender Brown, who was standing very close behind Ginny with the Patil twins on either side of her. "ARGH!" Ginny shrieked, clutching her heart. "You scared the crap out of me!"

"Sorry," Lavender said.

Ginny glowered at the three girls suspiciously, wondering what they wanted. Lavender and the Patil twins looked determined and were smiling in a fake and friendly way. "What?" Ginny asked.

"We want to help you," Lavender said, as though that should be obvious.

Ginny snorted. "You mean you want an inside scoop on what's going on."

"So what if we do?" Padma said challengingly. "You're gonna need help. It's a big castle. Those three could be anywhere."

"And they are, for lack of a better phrase, extremely high," Parvati added. "They could get into a lot of trouble, especially given their magic and the fact Harry and Hermione hate Malfoy and vice versa."

Ginny nodded grudgingly. She didn't want the three girls to help—because anything they saw would be all over the school in a few hours—but she needed more than the few people she had. She climbed fully off the bench and turned to Padma. "Can you get Terry, Michael and Anthony to help?"

"Sure," Padma said. "I could get a few more people, if you'd like—"

"No. Just them."

"Why?" Padma asked suspiciously. She had started dating Michael just before Halloween, and seemed to be a bit of the jealous type.

"Because I only want people I know and—to some degree—trust with helping Harry and Hermione," Ginny said in exasperation. "And anyone who finds Harry, Hermione and Malfoy should know how to handle three highly-skilled people who know how to use magic and aren't in their right minds, in case the three of them decide it may be funny to fling curses. So D.A. members are ideal. If you want to help, get them and meet me in the entrance hall."

With that, Ginny flounced over to the Hufflepuff tables. Ernie was quick to agree to help, standing up with his usual pompous air and sounding like a cross between a war general and Freddy from Scooby Doo as he asked his fellow Hufflepuffs to join him. Hannah, Susan and Justin took it in stride, while the members of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team—Zacharias Smith, Laura Madley, Eleanor Branstone, Kevin Whitby, and Rose Zeller—rolled their eyes and offered to help as well. Ginny reluctantly said nothing when the last five offered their help. While she disliked Smith and Laura, Eleanor, Kevin and Rose were all fourth year and younger, she could still use them all. She was a tad worried about what would happen if Harry, Hermione and Draco got hostile with anyone who saw them and tried to calm them down, but she figured the younger ones would be okay if they stayed with older ones. All of them followed her to the entrance hall, where they were joined by Luna and Neville, who had thought to get Seamus and Dean as well, and Lavender, Parvati, Padma, Anthony, Michael and Terry.

"So… what's wrong with Harry, Hermione and Malfoy?" Justin asked curiously. "I saw them laughing…"

"They've been hit by a Euphoria Charm," Ginny said with a shrug. "At the moment, they're currently running around, possibly trying to fly off the astronomy tower."

"I jumped off a balcony once after too much firewhisky," Zacharias Smith said.

"Pity you lived," muttered Parvati. Those that heard her nodded in agreement.

"So… they could get hurt," Rose said, her eyes wide.

"Yes, they could. They could also hurt someone else or just generally be a nuisance," Ginny said. "On the other hand, they might be fine. Regardless, they need to be found and subdued. Now, then… I'm going to check the places they're most likely to be. I want Luna with me." Ginny figured that was safest, as Luna had a tendency to be distracted by odd things when left to her own devices.

"Won't they head straight for Gryffindor Tower?" Neville asked. "They said they were going to kill Ron."

"I doubt it. They'll probably be distracted on their way there. When you're drunk, you don't tend to focus well, and I assume they're operating the same way. Now… Dean, you go up to the astronomy tower, check it out, and, if they're not in it, station yourself at the entrance. Seamus, take the Gryffindor tower and do the same. Michael, West Tower."

"What about the other towers?" Neville asked.

"If they head for Dumbledore's office, he'll stop them. It'd take a hell of a lot to get Hermione or Harry anywhere near North Tower—"

"Why?" asked Hannah.

"Hermione hates Trelawney," Lavender said. "Which is really unreasonable of her, you know. Trelawney was just being honest—"

"Regardless," Ginny cut in, not wanting to debate Trelawney's questionable Divination skills at present, "I doubt they'll go that way. Dumbledore would stop them if they somehow got into the headmaster's tower, and they can't get into Ravenclaw without the password."

"Hermione has it," Ernie said. "The head boy and head girl know all the common room passwords."

"Then Anthony, you take Ravenclaw tower," Ginny said with a sigh. "Hannah, do the dungeons the same way. Check them, then stand at the entrance. Susan, the basement. Do the Hufflepuff common room and the kitchens."

"How do I get in there?" she asked.

"Tickle the pair on that one painting of fruit. Now… Ernie, Zacharias, Laura, Eleanor, Rose, and Kevin—"

"What happened to D.A. only?" Padma demanded.

"I'm leaving them with D.A. members," Ginny retorted.

"Why?" Kevin asked. "We're old enough to handle—"

"Have you ever seen Hermione use a curse?" Ginny snapped. "I have. She's the smartest person at Hogwarts since Dumbledore and she's fought battles with Death Eaters. You want to try to fight her alone?" Kevin shook his head vigorously. Everybody now looked distinctly uneasy; Ginny sighed gustily. "Look, time is running out. Are you guys going to help or not?"

"You're really panicking about this, aren't you?" Justin said, looking somewhat surprised.

"Right now, Harry, Hermione and Draco are wandering around the castle alone. Three powerful magic-users who hate each other, and they are basically high. When Ron was under this charm, he went completely psycho and nearly got himself killed. There's a reason those charms are illegal—they make people do crazy, potentially dangerous things."

"Those charms are illegal?" Lavender asked curiously.

"Since 1983," Ginny said grimly. "Euphoria Charms and Potions became so widespread in the sixties and seventies that the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad went on strike. They got tired of sorting out the mess. The Ministry was trying to deal with it when St. Mungo's started threatening a strike themselves, sick of treating people who took them or crossed paths with people who took them. Once the Ministry got wind of that the Wizengamot forced through legislation. There are rehabilitation programs for people who are addicted to them. There are wards in St. Mungo's full of people who sustained such lasting damage from long-term use of them that they can't function in society. Numerous Muggles have been injured or had to have their memories modified. And my brother Bill told me that our parents once went dancing on the hood of a flying airplane after trying an Ecstasy Draft at a party in the late sixties. They were almost sent to Azkaban for breaking the Statute of Secrecy, and they would have if it had been after the law was made."

"My father said he broke his leg after trying one," Luna added. "And my cousin Clara lost an eye while using one. She has a very becoming eye patch, though."

"This is what we're dealing with," Ginny said, nodding at Luna. "So if you're not going to help me, get the hell out of my meeting."

"Sorry," a few people muttered. No one made to leave.

"You six search the grounds," Ginny continued. "Ernie, Laura, Eleanor, go one way, Rose and Kevin and Zacharias another. One group, go as far as the Forbidden Forest; the other, try and sneak into Hogsmeade. Be careful of Filch; it's a Hogsmeade weekend but he likes to catch people going in early. If you don't find anything, come back to the entrance hall and wait for Susan and Hannah. When Susan and Hannah come up to the hall, Ernie and Zacharias can start doing what the rest of us are going to be doing—searching the castle. We're going to go up floor by floor, one of us breaking off on each floor once we've all checked it and staying by the most common way down to the bottom floor. That'll mean Susan and Hannah are on the ground floor, Ernie can do first, Zacharias second, Terry third, Parvati fourth, Padma fifth, Neville sixth, and then Dean, Seamus, Michael and Anthony will all be on the seventh watching out for the towers. Justin, I want you to head for that statue of the one-eyed witch and stay by it. Luna and I will try and cover the rest; we'll wander from floor to floor as well."

"It wouldn't be hard for them to sneak into a secret passage, you know," Ernie said.

"Moaning Myrtle has a soft spot for Harry. I'm going to try and get her to rally a few ghosts and see if they'll help. Luna and I are going be mainly in secret passages, too. Dean, Seamus, Anthony, and Michael—you guys take the fastest route to the seventh floor through the secret passages. The rest of you, take the main corridors."

"What about the teachers?" Rose asked.

Ginny frowned. "To be honest, I'm not too keen on getting them involved any more than necessary. If we can keep them out of this, we will. All the teachers have been… acting odd lately."

"Like your campfire with Snape," Lavender said.

"I did not… urgh." Ginny pinched the bridge of her nose and decided to go with what worked. "Yes, something like that. They've all gone psycho and I'm not too thrilled about the idea of asking them for help. Not to mention the fact that once this goes to a teacher, we'll all be kept out of the loop while they take over the searching. If you get the third degree, though, don't lie; tell them what's up. Once we've searched this place well and good, if we still don't find them, we'll tell someone. But if anyone finds anything… well, most of us can do Patronuses, right?" The former D.A. members nodded. "Conjure one and tell it to come find me and tell me what you know. That should do it. Now, everyone clear?"

There was a general murmur of assent. "All right, then," Ginny said. "Welcome to Life with Harry. Let's go."

The large group scattered. Dean, Seamus, Anthony and Michael went straight for a secret passage that would cut out a good deal of time on the journey to the seventh floor.

"You're very good at this," Luna commented as she and Ginny headed for the second floor and Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

"Thanks," Ginny said dryly. "But I really wish I didn't have to be."

* * *

At last, the suit of armor was off Harry; it had taken a lot longer to lift it than Draco and Hermione had thought when beginning the task. Not only was the armor very heavy, but they kept getting distracted, parts of the armor kept coming apart, and once they got into a playful sword fight with its legs.

"There!" Hermione said as she set the suit's head back on its neck upside down. The suit's hands reached up and put its head right, then glared down at her. Hermione smiled back, unfazed. "Now… what were we doing?"

"Thinking up superhero names," Draco said excitedly. "What should I call myself?"

"Erm… Evil Boy?" Hermione suggested.

"It's not very… commanding," Harry said.

"Hey, I know!" Hermione exclaimed. "Evil Bastard! That's what Snape called himself once when he was trying to remember that he was still bad, even when he was helping us. You'll need something to remind you that even though you're going to be saving the world, you're still a jackass."

"Evil Bastard," Draco mused. "Yeah. Yeah, I like it! What about you, Potter? Going to go with 'The Boy Who Lived' or something like that?"

"Nah. If I used that, everyone would know it was me, and then my secret identity would be blown," Harry said, as though this made perfect sense.

"Good point," Draco agreed, nodding seriously.

"I'm going to be The Immortal," Harry continued importantly. "Cuz, you know, no one ever seems to manage to bump me off."

"But not for lack of trying," Draco said, pouting a little. "What are you going to be, Granger? The Bookworm?"

"Fine," Hermione said quickly, hoping now they could return to running around and yelling "whee!"

"We need costumes," Draco said. Hermione sighed in disappointment.

"And a vehicle," Harry said. "And cool gadgets."

"You've got some of those, haven't you?" Draco asked. "That cool map and the cloak and who knows what else…"

"Right, let's head back to the guest room; we can look through our stuff and see what we can come up with!" Harry said cheerfully.

Hermione sighed again, suddenly flashing back to the days of Muggle childhood, when all the girls were playing dumb games involving growing up and getting married and cleaning and all the boys were playing dumb games involving superheroes and construction equipment and toy cars and trucks. She'd never joined in such games, as her mother had brought her up to be against such views of femininity (and Hermione readily agreed) and the boys would never let her play with them.

"And a catchphrase," Draco said as he and Harry started walking towards Gryffindor tower.

"And cheesy puns to say when fighting bad guys," Harry added. "I never did get to say any of those, you know. Always wanted to, though."

Hermione winced as the chain tugged on her arm and she followed Draco, hoping that, now that she was allowed to play the superhero game with the boys, things might be half as interesting as running around and yelling "whee!"

"But for now," Harry continued, stopping and throwing out his arms. "WHEE!"

He took off at a dead run. Hermione and Draco happily followed him.

* * *

Ginny was starting to perk up. Luna had agreed to go into the bathroom and talk to Moaning Myrtle for her; Ginny, while mostly at peace with the Chamber of Secrets, found it a bit too painful to be in or even near the bathroom, and she hadn't gone inside since Fawkes had set her down in it at the end of her first year. Even passing it brought on a lot of bad memories and nostalgia, which she forced down under worries of Harry and Hermione until Luna emerged and reported that Moaning Myrtle was going to try to help. By the time that was settled, the first three floors had been cleared and Parvati, Padma and Neville were searching the fourth floor; Ginny and Luna proceeded to the fifth and started ducking into a few secret passages. At last, they headed for the seventh floor, planning to see what the guys had found in the towers; while they hadn't found Harry, Hermione and Draco, they were running out of places to look, and Ginny was starting to feel that things were going to work out. With any luck, they'd simply find them in the seventh-year boys' room, beating Ron to pulp.

Both Anthony and Michael looked out of breath and grumpy when Ginny and Luna found them, saying they'd been all through their respective towers and hadn't seen any sign of Harry, Hermione or Draco.

"Owls were all calm, too," reported an irritated Michael Corner, whose tower encompassed the owlery. "So I think it's safe to say that three people on an acid trip haven't gone in there." He yawned widely. "Jeez, it's too early in the morning for this."

"Thanks anyway, Michael," Luna said serenely. Ginny simply jerked her head in acknowledgment and walked on.

"Ginny!" Dean called, coming out of the astronomy tower just as they approached. He put his hands on his knees, wheezing. "Damn, that's a tall tower… anyway, I've just spoken to Professor Sinistra, and she said she was coming back from the kitchens when she heard someone yelling 'whee' out in the corridors. Thought it was just a random passer-by, but it could be them—sounds like a nutty thing to do, you know? I was just going to send word. But I don't know if it's them or not…"

"Thanks," Ginny called, already heading towards Seamus. "I'll see what I can find."

"What's so nutty about that?" Luna wondered aloud as she followed Ginny. "I do it all the time."

_Then we must be getting close,_ Ginny thought, smiling at Luna fondly. She turned the corner to see Seamus coming out of the portrait hole.

"I've been all through the tower," he reported proudly, though he looked as winded as the other three tower-searchers. "I got a first year to go up through the girls' dorms, too. Said she didn't see anyone."

"Damn!" Ginny growled. She'd been certain that they'd be in the tower, after Dean's discovery… but given how long it would have taken him to come back down after running into Sinistra, the three of them could be long gone. Or, possibly, in the Ravenclaw girls' dorms; Michael wouldn't be able to get in there. She bit her lip in indecision; she could go check the Ravenclaw girls' dorms herself, or go try the nearest floors and hope that Harry, Hermione and Draco hadn't gone far… doing either one could cost her valuable time if she made the wrong choice. They'd have to split up; she could send Luna to the girls' dorms and hope that Luna didn't get sidetracked by a pretty butterfly or something and Ginny could head down to—

"Did you check Hermione's room?" Luna asked, having learned that Hermione and Draco were staying in the guest room during the acromantula prank.

"No," Seamus said, his eyes widening. "I didn't think… but I don't know the password…"

Ginny smacked her forehead. "Duh! I can't believe I didn't think of that. I'll go; I'm the only one who knows the password besides them… You two, wait here."

Seamus nodded, Luna shrugged and Ginny turned towards the portrait hole. Just then, however, it swung open again, and Harry leaped out.

"Harry! Thank g—Harry?"

It was indeed Harry, but he looked unlike anything they had ever seen. He was wearing his snow boots and dragon hide gloves, and his invisibility cloak was back over his shoulders like a cape. More startling, however, was the fact that he was shirtless and wearing Muggle jeans under a pair of green boxer shorts with Snitches on them. Tied around his eyes, underneath his glasses, was what looked like one of Hermione's old scarves that she'd knitted during her free-the-house-elves phase, with jagged holes cut out for his eyes.

"I am The Immortal!" Harry yelled, putting his hands on his hips in a classic Superman pose.

"Psst!" someone hissed from inside the common room. "Move, so I can make my nifty dramatic entrance!"

Before Ginny, Seamus, or even Luna could process the strangeness of this event, Harry stepped aside and Hermione jumped out of the portrait hole as well. "And I am The Bookworm!"

Hermione looked as strange as Harry, if that were possible. She, too, was wearing her boots and gloves with her Hogwarts cloak done cape-style, and had fashioned her mask from another hand-knit scarf. However, her outfit was comprised of yellow Capri pants that looked horrible with her boots and a tight yellow sweater under the same red bathing suit that Dobby had brought her during the prefects' bathroom fiasco. Crudely taped on the chest of the suit was what looked like the title page to _An Advanced Guide to Transfiguration, _and an unreadable title page was taped to her hand-knit cap, which was pulled down over her bushy hair. As she stepped aside, they glimpsed the title page of _Hogwarts, A History_ on the back of her cloak.

They didn't really care about that discovery, however, as Draco hopped out just then with a yell of "And I am Evil Bastard!"

Ginny blinked. Her only conscious thought was, _That was one hell of a Euphoria Charm._

Draco was wearing a tutu.

A pink tutu, of course.

Ginny was so fixated on the tutu that it took her a moment to notice the rest of him. His outfit was a tad different; his cloak wasn't uniform standard, but rather Slytherin green and made of some rich, satiny material. His gloves were also green, and his boots were more stylish than functional. He was wearing plain gray Muggle slacks beneath his tutu and a sweater that may have once been black, but had been dyed various shades of orange with what was obviously a badly-applied color charm. His scarf/mask was bright purple and his hair was tied back with what look like a blue Scrunchie of Hermione's.

"You don't look very evil, you know," said Luna, the first one to recover.

"Oh, we figured it out," Draco said, nodding seriously. "See, we figure, basic black and somber colors are for amateur evil people. That's why Snape's been dressing colorfully. And why Umbridge had that obsession with pink. So I'm colorful!"

"Where did you get the tutu?" Luna asked curiously.

"Hermione transfigured it," Draco said cheerfully.

"It's quite nice," Luna told him kindly.

"Hush!" Hermione admonished Draco. "You'll give away our secret identities!"

"Secret…?" Seamus began faintly.

"Yes," Harry said. "No one will know that we're really Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Draco Malfoy! The world will know us only as The Immortal, The Bookworm, and Evil Bastard! We're going to save the world… anonymously!"

"So no evil reporters," Hermione said happily.

"We're the Save the World Club!" Draco yelled, thrusting his fists in the air.

"YEAH!" Hermione and Harry yelled, copying him.

"I thought the world was already saved," Luna said, surprised.

"Oh, no. We're going to save it again. Our first mission is to kill Anti-Spider Boy," Draco told her.

"Anti-Spider Boy?" Luna asked.

"Yes." Draco nodded vigorously. "A redheaded, ugly super villain, who fears spiders above all other creatures!"

"But we shall fight him with our super powers." Harry, who sounded like he was reciting from something, threw out his chest. "I can turn invisible!" And after a moment of rummaging around on his back, he pulled his cloak over him and disappeared beneath it. Then he poked his head out of the cloak, a proud expression on his face. "See?"

"I know everything!" Hermione said. She waved her wand over her head and large glowing neon letters appeared in midair, spelling the words "I know everything."

"And I am evil!" Draco planted his hands on the waistband of his pink tutu and gave an evil "Mwahaha!" sort of cackle.

"…Right," Ginny said slowly.

"Back!" Draco shouted suddenly, waving his finger in her face. "You're Anti-Spider Boy's sister! Don't think your disguise has fooled us!"

"For we're the Save the World Club!" Hermione yelled. "And I know everything!"

"And we won't let you stop us!" Harry added. "We're going to kick some serious ass!"

"We'll deal with you later!" Hermione said pompously. "For now, it's time to kill Anti-Spider Boy! Save the World Club, away!"

With that, the three of them ran off down the corridor, leaving Seamus and Luna to stare after them while Ginny gazed blankly into the space they'd just vacated.

"But… where are they going?" Seamus wondered. "Ron's been sitting on the couch in the common room the whole time. I saw him."

"They're probably just off to terrorize the rest of the castle," Ginny said absently.

"Shouldn't we go after them?" Luna asked.

Ginny nodded and turned around. "Send word to the others. Call them back. Post the Hufflepuffs in the entrance hall and make sure they know not to let Harry, Hermione or Malfoy out. Tell the tower boys to go cover all the entrances to the seventh hall so that Harry, Hermione and Malfoy can't get back up here. You two go down to sixth, find the three lunatics, and start chasing them. Force them down to the entrance hall, picking up the others as you go. You'll be able to trap them between all of you in the entrance hall and you'll get the drop on them. If they somehow manage to escape, go to Professor Wood and tell them you need his help and that it's about Hermione; he'll do whatever you ask. I'm counting on you, guys."

Seamus and Luna nodded, conjured their Patronuses to send messages on ahead, and ran off.

And Ginny turned, walked through the portrait hole, and headed up for bed. She was through with the prank war… for now, anyway. Ginny had given a lot to Harry, Ron and Hermione, and helped them a great deal. They were her friends, and Harry had saved her life.

But no way in hell was she getting involved with three psychotic people in makeshift superhero costumes.


	43. Neville, The Ignored Voice of Reason

**Chapter Forty-two**

_Neville, the Ignored Voice of Reason_

McGonagall groaned as she heard the shouts and saw the flashes of light coming up from the entrance hall as she made her way to the marble staircase. Great. More prank war idiocy.

She made it to the top of the stairs and stopped in her tracks, horrified. A number of Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws and Gryffindors were gathered in the entrance hall, fighting hard… against Hermione and Draco.

McGonagall, startled by their superhero appearance, stared at them for a moment, before sweeping her gaze over the rest of the students. The Patil twins were huddled against a wall, both sporting horns out of the top of their heads with green fur out of their faces, shivering and watching in terror. The Hufflepuff Quidditch team, minus Susan Bones and Ernie Macmillan, were clustered together near the top of the staircase, Zacharias Smith hiding behind the younger students, all of them covered in some sort of blue mud. Ernie was blocking the doors to the grounds, even though no one else, including Hermione and Draco, seemed to care much about the doors, and shouting imperious commands like "Duck!" and "Get him!" at Justin and Susan, who were being repeatedly knocked over by disembodied arms and legs, which on closer inspection turned out to be Harry half-hidden under an invisibility cloak, running around and yelling "Whee!" while attacking. Dean Thomas was lying on the floor not far from Ernie, obviously under the Full Body-Bind, and Seamus Finnigan was hopping around on one foot in a circle and mindlessly yelling "QUACK! QUACK!" no doubt under the influence of some spell or another. Michael Corner and Terry Boot were shouting all manner of curses at Draco, but Draco kept yelling _"Protego!" _over and over in between bouts of evil laughter. Anthony Goldstein, Neville Longbottom, Hannah Abbot and Luna Lovegood were facing off against Hermione… and failing miserably to make any sort of impression whatsoever.

"AWAY, minions of Anti-Spider Boy!" Hermione roared, waving her wand in a sharp arch. Anthony and Hannah screamed, Anthony in pain and Hannah in terror; he crumpled to the ground, his skin a fascinating shade of purple and his hands tightly bound by red-and-gold rope, while Hannah dropped her wand and ran to hide behind Zacharias.

McGonagall pulled out her wand and conjured a Patronus of her own. She couldn't leave the hall in the middle of all-out battle to use the Floo Network, but she didn't think she was going to be able to slip past to go fetch Snape, as his quarters were the closest.

"Go to the other teachers, starting with Severus," she told it. "Tell them there's a battle in the entrance hall between the students." It nodded and ran away, interestingly enough in the direction of the front doors and right through Ernie. McGonagall frowned, wondering where it was going, before remembering that Snape had left last night and, if last weekend was any indication, wouldn't be back before Monday morning.

Draco, meanwhile, choked on a particularly nasty bit of evil laughter and spluttered, then shrugged and kicked Terry in the gut. He rounded on Michael, who glared at him defiantly and then took off in the direction of the basement kitchens.

"Hermione," Neville said desperately, now that only he and Luna stood against her (and we all know who would win _that_ fight), "we don't want to hurt you. We just want to help you."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. "You do?"

"Yes, yes, we want to help you… um… feel better," Neville said hastily.

"You do?" Hermione repeated. "I can feel even better than I do right now? ALL RIGHT!"

"It could be a trick!" Draco warned her, wandering over. "As Evil Bastard, I know all of the deceitful wiles of evil! And they're probably trying to trick you to save Anti-Spider Boy!"

"Right!" Hermione said, nodding emphatically. She turned back to Neville and Luna; Neville took a nervous step back while Luna smiled at Hermione cheerfully. "If you do indeed want to help us, you must swear your allegiance to the Save the World Club and promise to help us destroy Anti-Spider Boy," Hermione said solemnly.

"Okay," Luna said with a shrug.

"Good enough for me," Draco said, nodding and shaking her hand. "You're in!"

"WAIT!" Hermione said, and Neville let out an "eep" and moved back even farther. "They need costumes!"

"And superhero names!" Draco agreed.

Hermione brandished her wand at Neville, who nearly fainted. "YOU!" she shrieked. "You shall be Clumsy Plant Man!" A flash of light and a bang like a gunshot later, Neville was staring in horror at his brand new Tarzan-esque loincloth, a strap over his shoulder holding it on. It was orange and covered in little black triangles, a la Fred Flintstone. A wreath of vines encircled his head and his feet were bare. Even worse than the loincloth (in his opinion, anyway) was that two thick vines that looked astonishingly like Devil's Snare were wrapping around his wrists, the ends dangling. He held as still as he could, which meant he was trembling violently, but the vines made no move to strangle him.

"And YOU—" Hermione said, turning to Luna, but Draco tugged on the chain to distract her.

"No, no, no," Draco said. "He needs a catchphrase first!"

"Oh, yeah. Um… able to defeat many an enemy with his extensive knowledge of plants, his strangling bracelets of enchanted Devil's Snare, and his uncanny tendency to fall over on his victims?"

"Bit lengthy, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Er… Clumsy Plant Man, coolest nature-lover ever?"

Draco nodded. "That works."

Hermione nodded and waved her wand at Luna before anyone could stop her. When the light diminished, Luna was wearing a dress made out of butterbeer corks with straps of Drooble's wrappers, some of the corks on her chest painted orange in the shape of a radish. Her long hair was teased out to its maximum length, so that a two-and-a-half foot blond afro distracted from the odd dress; what looked like large stuffed eagle, symbol of Ravenclaw, was perched on top of her straw-colored hair. On Luna's feet were pink bunny slippers, and some sort of tail protruded from the back of her dress.

"Weird but Helpful Chick," Hermione explained proudly. "She scares people away."

Without warning, Harry, partially covered by the cloak, slid in between the four students on his back. "Harry!" Hermione cried. "Have you fallen prey to the evil minions of Anti-Spider Boy?"

"Huh?" Harry said. "Oh, no. I just thought I'd see how far I could skid across the tiles." He sat up. "Hey, twelve feet!"

Hermione looked up, glancing around. "Where'd the rest of them go?"

"Ran off screaming," Harry said with a shrug. He climbed to his feet and grinned at Neville and Luna. "Welcome to the club, guys!"

Neville looked down at his slightly pudgy belly, not nearly hidden enough behind the thick strap for the loincloth. He whimpered.

"Thank you," Luna said graciously.

"Ah, the gang's all here," Hermione said happily. "Me and Harry and Malfoy, and we're off to kill Ron, with the help of Neville and Luna! Just like the war."

"Wait," Harry said slowly, "something's not right…"

"The outfits?" Neville asked hopefully.

"No, that's not it," Harry said, waving his hand dismissively. "I've got my cloak, see? Outfits are just like they should be. Hmm…"

"Ooh, ooh, I know, I know!" Draco said, waving his hand enthusiastically like a student dying to impress a teacher. "It was Harry, Hermione, and _Ron,_ off to kill _Malfoy!"_

"I can't kill you," Hermione said, shaking her head sadly. "Not until the chain's off. I'd have to lug you around all day and you're much too heavy."

"Oh, yeah." He patted her shoulder consolingly. "Maybe later, then."

"We could dye your hair red, though," Harry said thoughtfully. "So you'd look more like Ron. And we could dye his hair once we killed him, so everyone would think he was you."

"Potter, I told you, no one's doing ANYTHING to my hair," Draco said sternly.

"Right. Okay, so… what's missing?"

"Ginny isn't here," Luna pointed out helpfully.

"GINNY!" Harry and Hermione exclaimed, smacking their foreheads. Hermione seemed to think this was a lot of fun, as she did it a few more times; Draco, annoyed by the tugging on his wrist this caused, grabbed her hand to stop her. "Ginny," Harry said. "We've got to get Ginny. She's a very important part of the attack on Anti-Spider Boy."

"Who was Anti-Spider Boy again?" Draco asked, frowning.

"Um… I forget," Hermione said apologetically. "I'm sure we'll figure it out eventually, though. Ginny will help! She's good at that. Except when there's lemon drops involved."

"Let's go get her!" Harry yelled. He dove back under the cloak. A moment later, an invisible arm was flung around Neville's shoulders, and another around Luna's. Stumbling slightly, the three toddled up the suitcase, Hermione and Draco following, leaving the mass of fallen students behind.

McGonagall stared at them as they came towards her. Now was her chance to stop them, to… to fix whatever was wrong with them. But as the Hufflepuffs formerly huddled on the stairs ran past her fearfully, she held back. As the three Gryffindors, Draco and Luna came closer, she made no move to raise her wand.

_My Patronus isn't back yet with the other teachers…_

They were coming closer. Hermione waved.

_After all, someone has to get the students up to Poppy…_

"Hi, Professor!" called Harry's disembodied voice.

_I could always tell Dumbledore I didn't think it wise to attack them myself; they did kill Voldemort, after all…_

And then they were past.

McGonagall burst out laughing. By the time she stopped, they were gone, and she simply shook her head and went to help the victims scattered about the entrance hall.

* * *

It took them a half hour to get back into the common room, mostly because they couldn't figure out how to get Neville, Luna and Harry in all at once, but once that was sorted out they tumbled inside and looked around happily for Ginny. Numerous Gryffindors stared at them oddly; Ron peeked at them over the back of the couch, looking nervous. 

"Where would you be if you were Ginny?" Harry asked Hermione.

"How should I know? I'm not Ginny. At least, I don't think I am. Where would you be if you were Ginny?" Hermione asked Draco.

"Erm… Hawaii?"

"I'll go get my broom," Harry said eagerly.

"Hawaii's awfully far," Luna said serenely. "Maybe we should check her bedroom before flying all the way there."

"Good idea!" Harry, Hermione and Draco chorused.

Harry turned to go up the stairs to the girls' dormitory, made it up about six steps, and came shooting back down the stone slide, alarms accompanying his arrival. "Oh, yeah," he said thoughtfully, hopping up and pushing his cloak back. "Hmm."

"Don't be silly, Harry, it's girls only. Luna, Malfoy, come on!"

Hermione marched up the staircase as soon as it reformed. She made it to the tenth step when Draco, obliviously wandering after her, set off the alarms again. She toppled into him and they both went flying back to the common room, landing on top of Harry. Startled, they looked up at Luna and Neville.

"Luna," Hermione said disapprovingly, "did you set off the alarms?"

"No, I didn't go up the stairs." Hermione looked outraged at the blatant disregard for Hermione's orders. "Malfoy isn't a girl," Luna said by way of explanation.

"Oh." Hermione sighed and lay back, sprawled across Draco's legs, her feet flung across Harry's chest. "Well, you could have told me that earlier, you know."

"Sorry," Luna said sincerely.

Neville looked up the stairs, torn. On the one hand, he didn't want to make Ginny suffer. On the other hand, he knew he wasn't cut out for this. While he and Luna had also helped Harry, Ron and Hermione in the final battles with Voldemort, Ginny had been exponentially more useful to them. She was the smart one, not just the brave one, and unlike Luna she was wholly sane. If anyone could save the day, it would be Ginny. Of the three of them, Ginny was the Harry of the group, or perhaps the Hermione, while Neville was the Ron. …Luna was just… sort of… well, Luna was _Luna,_ but Ginny… well. He knew that if anyone could be counted on to pick up the wand once Harry, Ron and Hermione had fallen, it would be her. She most definitely would not be standing next to a pile of two heroes and one villain while a random but loveable girl with a blond afro stared dreamily into space a few feet away. She probably wouldn't be wearing a loincloth, either. Although that was a nice thought…

_Focus, Neville!_

An inner voice that sounded a lot like his grandmother made him jump, and he looked down at Harry, Hermione and Draco. Like it or not, Neville was not the person to single-handedly do something this important.

"You know," Neville said tentatively, "if we could just send Luna alone—"

"I'VE GOT IT!" Harry roared, making the entire common room (which was watching with interest) jump badly and drowning out the last words of Neville's. "Hermione and Luna can carry Malfoy up the stairs! Then he won't set off the alarms, and even if he does, he'll be being carried, so he won't fall back down."

"Brilliant, Harry!" Hermione gushed, giving him a hug as best she could while lying half on top of him. She jumped up. "Luna, get his feet!"

"Okay," Luna said serenely, grabbing his ankles and lifting them up. She looked expectantly at Hermione.

Hermione frowned down at Draco. "You're too heavy," she said irritably.

"But you haven't picked him up," Neville said.

Hermione ignored him and whirled around to face Harry. "Quick, The Immortal! We need reinforcements!"

Harry nodded and looked sharply around the room. A group of three fourth years sat over by the fire. "HEY!" he yelled, and suddenly ran at them like a nuclear missile bearing down upon a particularly annoying country.

It is worth mentioning that in crisis situations, most people can be compared to rabbits. Sometimes, rabbits will freeze in the shadow of a bird of prey. Sometimes they will run like hell to the safety of their burrows. Yet other times, they'll kick the living stuffing out of that cocky-ass bird with their nice strong hind legs.

The three fourth years appeared to be a good variety. A girl with pigtails yelped and bolted for the portrait hole as if hoping Harry would magically be confined to the room. A pimply-faced boy looked at the demented-but-still-somehow-heroic vision of Harry Potter running into battle and simply stared like the proverbial deer in the headlights, knowing that the killer of Voldemort was coming for _him,_ the moment made all the more surreal for him by Harry's outlandish attire.

Thus it was up to the third, a skinny girl with thick glasses, to save her companions and teach that bird a lesson… or rather (as is probably the true meaning of the rabbit's action) to panic, kick out her legs and hope for the best. She seized a nearby copy of _Hogwarts, A History_ (Madam Pince simply couldn't keep that book in the library, what with all the pranksters running around trying to learn the school's secrets to attack their classmates with more precision). With a strangled sound that might have been an attempt at a battle cry, the girl flung the book at Harry like a vindictive paperboy.

Harry's forward momentum was totally unprepared for the reverse direction; in a complicated move that totally explained why Hogwarts didn't teach physics, Harry was knocked away from the fire, over the back of the couch, and onto Ron.

Ron stared at him in horror. Ron had been in the common room when the three had shown up, had smirked and laughed with everyone else, and then had slowly filled with terror when he realized the three extremely irrational people were trying to kill him. He didn't have Fred and George to ask for help, and his only other support in situations like these was now the cause of situations like these. So he stared at Harry much like the fourth-year boy, waiting for Harry's move as bits of miscellaneous pages about Hogwarts's past rained down upon them.

"Oh, hey Ron," Harry said cheerfully, and got back up, hopped over the couch, and turned in Hermione's general direction.

"I don't think those three wanted to help much, Herm!" Harry shouted to her.

"There's a bunch of first-year girls in the corner! And don't forget to only use my superhero name when I'm in costume!"

"Yeah, Potter!" Draco yelled.

"Sorry, Hermione!"

"That's okay, Harry! Now, you'd best try the sneak attack! They all have books, too!"

"Right! Good idea, Hermione! Ooh! Can I say the poem?"

"You'd best! Your super powers won't work without it!" Draco called.

"But… it's a cloak," Neville whined desperately, feeling rather like bursting into tears, especially since Hermione had forced Neville and Luna to memorize poems of their own on the way to Gryffindor Tower and he had a sinking feeling she was going to make them use them before long. "He doesn't have to say a poem. He doesn't. Honest. He's gone invisible like sixty times today!"

Once again, Neville was ignored. Harry cleared his throat loud enough to get an echo. "Magic super-secret power of invisibility, which has absolutely nothing to do with my cool silvery cloak honest, activate so that I may sneak attack those first years over there!" he bellowed.

"It's not even a real poem," Neville moaned as Hermione and Draco beamed at Harry approvingly.

Harry threw the cloak over himself and disappeared. Normally, this would be a spectacular way to "sneak attack" shaking first years, but Harry was yelling "WHEE!" and knocking over tables and chairs and books and so on as he went, so there was a nice trail of destruction to mark his location. He skidded to a halt in the midst of five petrified first years and flung off his cloak.

"HI!" Harry boomed. "I'm The Immortal, legendary member of the Save the World Club! I require the assistance of you insignificant human children!"

"Please leave us alone?" asked a particularly brave girl.

"Don't you want to help?" Harry asked.

They all shook their heads frantically and Harry deflated, aghast. "Um… but… I can pay you! I'm wealthy, see?" He reached beneath his green Snitch-covered boxers and into his pants pocket, pulling out five Galleons.

"We'll do it," said the same first year, her hand snatching the money greedily.


	44. Oliver's Last Stand

_Author's Notes:_ Here it is: the first never-before-seen chapter! I'm working on the next, but my interest in HP is still a lot lower than it used to be and I can't guarantee I'll be updating all that often. I thank you all for being patient with me throughout the long, arduous process of editing this monstrously long fic. I'm a lot happier with the story the way it is now, which makes it flow a lot better for me while I'm writing.

About the lyrics—I'm using song lyrics in this chapter, but they are MINE. _I_ made them up, they are NOT copyrighted, they belong to ME, and therefore they are NOT against the rules.

Thanks to everyone who sent abuse reports about Anapplefromatree's bit of plagiarism; she's gone now. I really appreciate the support.

Adriana Blanco has been translating this fic into Spanish, for anyone who's interested; she's been doing a wonderful job.

And now—on with the war!

* * *

**Chapter Forty-three**

_Oliver's Last Stand_

Ginny lay in the nice, comfy place between sleep and wakefulness, where everything was hazy around the edges and nothing seemed to matter. She was drifting aimlessly, almost in a meditative state… everything was okay… she was relaxed and calm…

There was a simple spell placed on the dormitory to keep the sound of alarms from waking up the entire girls' dormitories when an idiot guy tried to sneak in during the middle of the night, put in place in the early sixties when boys were getting particularly stupid. Thus Ginny did not hear the alarms, didn't know that a tutu-clad Malfoy was now being carried up the stairs by a group of sweaty first-year girls, didn't know that the Save the World Club was about to intrude into her happy bubble. It came as a complete shock when Hermione's masked and cap-covered head suddenly filled Ginny's blurry vision and the yell of "HI GINNY!" shattered the peacefulness with the same sort of finesse as throwing an antique Tiffany lamp off Mt. Everest.

Ginny stared, horrified and not a little annoyed. Before she could say anything (such as, "Get the hell out of my room until you sober up, you whack job!"), a stuffed, slightly moth-eaten eagle came into view, glued firmly on top of a blond afro by some spell or another.

"Hello," said Luna. Ginny gaped at her, then shook her head and rolled her eyes; she couldn't even pretend to be surprised that the first person Hermione would join forces with under the circumstances would be Luna.

"Hi, Weasel Junior!" yelled another voice, and a hand began waving in Ginny's face. Ginny batted it away and turned to look in its general direction, only to see Draco, tutu and all, born aloft by five irritated first years, like a crack head's version of a fairytale princess being carried about by her adoring slaves.

"Potter paid us," said one by explanation. She was standing on Draco's cloak, which was dragging the ground.

"Damn rich people," Ginny growled.

"Gin! It's time to induct you into the Save the World Club!" Hermione said cheerfully. She pulled out her wand.

"No," Ginny growled, snatching the wand away and tossing it across the room. That was a mistake, and she knew it; she should have held onto it, snapped it if possible. Now it was retrievable.

"But we need you," Luna said absently, idly inspecting her butterbeer-cork dress.

"The gang isn't complete without you, Ginny," Hermione agreed. "Me, Luna, Neville, Harry and Malfoy. Doesn't sound nearly as cool as me, Luna, Neville, Harry, Malfoy and Ginny. Six is a much better number for a superhero team than five. Just look at Power Rangers."

"Who?" Ginny asked, frowning in confusion.

"Power Rangers! They always add in a sixth member. Almost always, anyway. Besides, we need you, Ginny. We can't remember who Anti-Spider Boy is, and we can't kill him if we can't remember him."

Ginny sighed. This was the first time that she had needed Hermione and truly couldn't go to Hermione for advice. It was a disturbing feeling, not having Hermione's solid support and logic. Still, no matter how alone and lost Ginny felt, she wasn't about to end up in the Save the World Club.

"I could totally get used to this," Draco said happily from the arms of the first years.

"Don't," said one of the first years blackly.

"I rather like this dress," Luna said contemplatively. "It's surprisingly comfortable."

"Hermione, dear," Ginny said sweetly, "I tell you what. I'll tell you who Anti-Spider Boy is, and then you can go kill him, and I can go back to sleep, okay?" If Ron wanted to be an idiot about things, then Ginny had no qualms about dumping the mess he'd created right back on him.

"No, Ginny, you need to be in the club," Hermione insisted.

"Oh, I'm already in the club," Ginny assured her. "I'm just… out of uniform right now."

"Really?" Hermione stared at her. "Oh. I had no idea."

"What's your superhero name?" Luna asked.

Ginny shot her a dirty look. Luna wasn't under the influence and therefore she had no right to complicate things. "Superhero name?" she repeated cautiously.

"Yes. I'm Weird but Helpful Chick. And Neville is Clumsy Plant Man."

_"Neville?"_ Ginny hissed. Great. Ginny had a rather large soft spot for Neville; he was, after all, another person just like her—close to Harry, Ron and Hermione and yet never part of their circle, always in their shadow. The thought that he had been sucked into this mess because Ginny had sent him after Harry and Hermione was a disturbing thought.

"I'm The Sane One," Ginny told Hermione slowly, thinking fast. "I am exhausted from previous battles with Anti-Spider Boy and therefore I need to rest more so that my secret powers of, um, X-ray vision will recharge. So, I ask that you try to take him on yourself. I'm unable to fight myself at the moment. I'll tell you who he is, and you can go get him, okay?"

Hermione nodded eagerly, and Ginny opened her mouth, then stopped. On a normal day, Ron was no match for Harry or Hermione, though he was probably a match for Draco, Neville or Luna alone. She could bet that Neville and Luna, despite their odd induction into the club, wouldn't have any part in the assassination attempt. Still, Ginny doubted Ron could take on Harry, Hermione _and_ Draco, even in their psychotic state. Their current madness would lend an edge of unpredictability, and a no-holds-barred duel was not something Ginny wanted to see Ron on the end of. However, Ginny also doubted she'd be able to get the Save the World Club to back off, and therefore she had to send them after _someone._ But who did Ginny dislike that much?

_Wood._ The answer came to her out of nowhere. She did owe Wood one or two problems, and he wasn't particularly innocent in this whole mess. Besides which, he was the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher; Ginny didn't think sending them after Dumbledore would work out, so by all rights she should send them to Wood. McGonagall was too unpredictable, and Snape probably wasn't in the castle. So Wood was the next best thing.

"Oliver," Ginny said. "Oliver Wood. Go get him, eh? Oh, and you might want to send Neville into the room first," she added as an afterthought.

"Good idea," Luna said. "His vines of enchanted Devil's Snare can trap Professor Wood before he can escape."

"Exactly," Ginny said gratefully, then glared at Luna. "Hey. Weren't you supposed to put an end to this yourself?"

Luna shrugged. "Everyone else ran off or got cursed; I figured you'd be proud that I'm at least keeping an eye on them instead of running around screaming or hiding," Luna said sternly, as though Ginny was being ungrateful.

Ginny stared at her for a long moment before dryly replying with, "Gee. Thanks, Luna."

* * *

Oliver was having one of the best mornings he'd had in ages. Apparently the only way to avoid the insanity that was Hogwarts was to hide. So far, it was working perfectly. He was lounging around in his room, sitting on his Firebolt 2 for no reason other than he felt more comfortable on it than he did in a chair, floating at his writing desk, grading papers and singing along to Fenrir's Offspring, his favorite band. The loud, harsh song made him feel like his old self, the carefree self that—even in the midst of a grueling Quidditch season and a depressing war and his missions for the Order of the Phoenix—could still go out on Friday night and party at a club with the guys.

"'Love is like the_Cruciatus,'"_ he half-shouted as he corrected the spelling of "Expelliarmus" on a first year's essay, "'it's so excruciating… I wish you and I had never been Us… I wish I could cut you out… I hex your very name… I wish I could banish you… your curse is nothing but pain…'"

Someone knocked on the door, the sound barely distinguishable beneath the music. Oliver stopped singing, for no reason other than he knew his voice sucked, but he didn't get off the broom or otherwise halt his actions. Whoever was at the door, they'd go away eventually. Like McGonagall had when she'd tried to reach him through the Floo Network and he'd just hid behind a bookcase until she'd given up. The only creature to have interacted with him today was a house elf who'd brought him his breakfast.

"Professor Wood?" called the voice of Neville Longbottom, his tone desperate and long-suffering and all the things that Oliver wasn't because he was very emphatically _hiding,_ thank you very much.

Oliver didn't reply. He started singing softly again, hoping Neville would be gone by the next verse. "'Love is like the _Cruciatus_… nothing but suffering… never again will you and I be Us…'"

"Oliver? It's me, Neville."

"'I will find a way to quit you…'"

"Remember that time when you were in fifth year and I was in first and you stopped those sixth-year guys from beating me up and healed me so I wouldn't have to go up to the hospital wing all bloody?"

Oliver swallowed, trying to force down the thought of "Poor kid" that wandered through his brain. "'I'll erase your very name…'"

"And that time when I was in third year and you made those guys outside the greenhouses stop cursing me with all those horrible spells?"

"'Find some way to banish you…'"

"I need that kind of help again. Please?

"'Your curse is nothing but pain…'"

"Um, I know where you can get some Kikanto Root?"

Oliver dropped his pen and looked round at the door in horror. Neville Longbottom had just offered him, _a teacher,_ access to a plant that was banned at Hogwarts and in several countries. Oliver wasn't sure what was more shocking—that Neville knew how to find that plant, or that Neville was desperate enough to risk getting kicked out of school or worse just to get Oliver to open the door.

_Don't do it,_ groaned the part of him that was just as long-suffering as Neville currently sounded.

Oliver sighed. He had to. It was Neville. Neville, whose grandmother had played Bridge with Oliver's grandmother. Neville, whose father had been Oliver's father's favorite cousin. Neville, whose parents had sent Oliver a Pocket Sneakoscope for Oliver's fourth birthday that Oliver still treasured. Neville, who made for some great comedic relief whenever the two branches of their families got together, even if most of it was by accident. Neville, who had once healed Oliver's cat with an herbal concoction that even the experts at Magical Menagerie hadn't thought to try. Neville, who Oliver had tried to watch out for during the three years they'd been at Hogwarts together, even going so far as to remind anyone who ridiculed Neville that Neville had scored Gryffindor the House Cup in his very first year. They weren't exactly friends, and they weren't close family, but Oliver knew and liked Neville well enough that he couldn't leave him out in the hallway after Neville had basically offered to sell his soul in exchange for relief from whatever nightmare was on the other side of the door.

With a flick of his wand, the music was silenced, and Oliver hopped off his broom. He kept the broom in his hand, mostly for comfort, though he told himself that he was not the sort of wanker who needed a security blanket and that whatever might be on the other side of that door could be something Oliver would need to run from and fast, given how often he'd had to retreat over the past few days.

Oliver started to head for the door, but then decided it might be best to keep his distance. He raised his wand and lifted the numerous locking spells he'd placed upon it. "Come in," he called.

Neville burst into the room and threw himself against the door, closing it firmly and leaning against it as if afraid others would barge in at any moment. "Oliver… you've got to help me," he whispered urgently.

Oliver stared at Neville incredulously, taking in the loincloth and the wreath on his brow. "Is that… is that _Devil's Snare_ round your wrists?" Oliver demanded.

"It's enchanted," Neville said absently. "It'll only attack on my command."

"Why the hell are you—?"

"Harry, Hermione and Malfoy. They've completely lost it. From what we can tell, Fred and George hit them with some really powerful Euphoria Charms; I haven't seen anyone that addled since Ron in the Department of Mysteries and he was so out of it that he Summoned that brain that nearly killed him… they're calling themselves the Save the World Club, and they made these freak costumes and put me and Luna in these stupid outfits and they're out to kill Ron, only they were calling him Anti-Spider Boy and they forgot that Ron was Anti-Spider Boy—"

Oliver erased the mental note to get Fred a good Christmas gift for the cherry thing. "Take them up to the hospital wing," he interrupted. "Poppy will sort them out."

"I can't. See, Ginny organized a bunch of us to stop them and they completely slaughtered us. The only reason Luna and I didn't get hexed into oblivion is because we pretended to go along with it. If they think I'm not with them, they'll hex me too. And for some reason when they went to go get Ginny to help them remember who Anti-Spider Boy was, she said it was you."

Oliver gaped at him. _"Me?"_

"Yeah. I guess she thought you could stop them. She told them to send me in first, I guess to explain. I'm supposed to subdue you with the Devil's Snare, so I figure you and me can come up with a plan and then we'll let them in and get the drop on them…"

Oliver shook his head and stared at Neville with increasing horror. "Neville… let me get this straight. You're telling me that there are three people in that hallway. One is the son of You-Know-Who's right-hand man. The other two killed You-Know-Who and several Death Eaters. All three of them are stoned out of their minds, and _they're here to kill me?"_

Neville nodded apologetically. "Yeah. There's Luna, too, but I'm not certain if she'll help them or us or just sort of, you know, stand there blankly."

"Well, that's just_great,"_ Oliver growled. "Just great! This is so_typical!"_

"…Typical…?" Neville repeated faintly. He was not sure any word could be _less_ applicable to their current situation.

"Three and a half years, I've been friends with Hermione. Friends with benefits, really—"

"You have?" Neville asked, startled.

Oliver ignored him. "—and _every time_ I hung out with her there was always_something_ going on, some freak accident or dangerous intrigue. Even in the summer, when she'd try to just be with her little Muggle friends and pretend she was a normal Muggle girl with no magical powers it was alarming to see just how extraordinary she was, always wrapped up in something, inside information on the Order and Harry's scar is some sort of conduit and of course I can do a spell that you didn't learn until you were halfway through your seventh year and of course there's nothing creepy about being roommates with Sirius Black he's a lovely man really and I really love rules but this one time I freed a hippogriff from Ministry execution and even though that could put me in Azkaban for up to five years I'm sure no one would ever find out and I'm sorry I can't see you over Christmas Oliver but didn't you hear from the Order that Harry psychically deduced that Mr. Weasley's been almost eaten by a giant snake and I have to spend the holidays at headquarters but I'd love it if you'd drop by and damn it Neville _I'm sick of this!"_

Neville, who had never known that Oliver had any connection to Harry, Ron and Hermione save Quidditch and his friendship with the Weasley twins, was rather taken aback by this outburst. Moreover, he couldn't really see what Oliver's problem was. Hermione was unusual, yes, but that was part of what Neville and everyone else who called her a friend liked about her.

"I'm not sure I understand," Neville said slowly.

"Of _course_ you don't!" Oliver bellowed, gesturing so wildly with his broom that Neville ducked. "You're one of _them!_ You let yourself get sucked in and you surf through the chaos with them until they let you go back to sitting on the beach but that doesn't happen to _me,_ Neville! When they suck me in, I can't get out of the water until I'm half-drowned! _I can't surf,_ Neville!"

"Surf?" Neville repeated blankly. Surfing was a Muggle invention, and as a pureblood Neville had never heard of it. Oliver, however, had chatted up a few of Hermione's friends about the subject.

"It's always the same with them! I just wanted a Seeker and instead I got some bizarre kid predestined to fight dark wizards and always end up in the hospital wing come Quidditch Cup time! There's never a normal moment around those three; what made me think I could actually _date_ her? She's like that teacup ride at the Muggle carnival she took me to—it might have been fun at first, but pretty soon it just makes you queasy. I—"

Neville sighed and cleared his throat. "Look, Oliver… do you _mind?"_

Oliver blinked. "Huh?"

"I understand that you're having some sort of breakdown, and I feel for you, I really do, but I'm wearing a _loincloth._ Can't you go ahead and break down _after_ we sort this out?"

Oliver stared at him, a little outraged. This was not very supportive of Neville. However, given the fact that Oliver had, over the course of the prank war, let slip two of Hermione's secrets (her tattoo and her relationship with him), abandoned her during Quidditch practice, gotten drunk and terrorized the twins and Ron, cracked up when trying to help Hermione clean herself after the food fight, upset Harry badly enough to make him inflate Draco's head, and most recently hidden in his room at the first sign of impending weirdness, Oliver didn't really think he could fault Neville for not wanting to hear Oliver whine. Oliver could at least place partial blame for his problems upon himself, whereas Neville was innocent and suffering. Not to mention the fact that Oliver was a teacher, and was behaving quite poorly—not only had he played favorites and allowed students to get away with things they shouldn't, he'd ignored Harry and Hermione this morning and he couldn't ignore Neville now, not when Oliver had turned a blind eye and let it get this out of control.

"Sorry," Oliver said, taking a deep, calming breath. "I've just been a little… out of sorts… lately."

"I understand. And, um, once this is over, if you want to talk—"

"Neville?" called Hermione from the other side of the door. "Have you restrained Anti-Spider Boy yet? We're _bored!"_

Neville sighed pathetically and began to reply, but Oliver motioned at him to keep quiet and step away from the door. "Hermione? Is that you?" Oliver shouted, injecting a note of hopefulness into his voice. "You've got to help me, Neville's gone crazy—"

The door flew open and hit the wall with a bang. Harry marched in, dressed like a superhero designed by a drug addict, hands on his hips. "I, The Immortal, have come to destroy you, Anti-Spider Boy!" Harry yelled.

Oliver stared at him. There wasn't really much he could say to that.

Harry ran straight at him and suddenly Oliver felt incredibly silly. Between Harry's outfit, Neville hiding behind Oliver's desk, and every ludicrous occurrence that had led up to this situation, Oliver simply couldn't take this seriously. This wasn't The Man Who Triumphed over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named charging at him valiantly with righteous justice in his eyes. This was a cracked-out kid who Oliver used to wake up at five in the morning for Quidditch practice, now thrown into Oliver's path at a time when the entire world had gone mad.

Oliver didn't even bother raising his wand. Instead, he hefted his broomstick, waited for Harry to come within reach, and rapped the Firebolt 2 across Harry's forehead. The biggest hero the wizarding world had ever known dropped like a sack of bricks.

Hermione and Draco had just crossed the threshold into Oliver's room. Hermione gasped at the sight of Harry. "Look, Evil Bastard! Anti-Spider Boy has killed The Immortal!"

"Good on you, mate," Draco said, deeply impressed. "You have _no_ idea how many people have tried and failed to knock Potter off. If you'd managed to do that a year ago, the Dark Lord probably would have made you king of Asia or something by now."

Hermione smacked his arm. "Mal-_foy!_ We're a _team,_ remember? The Save the World Club? You're not supposed to be _happy_ that Oliver's killed Harry!"

"Oh, right," Draco said apologetically. "Habit, you understand."

"Of course. You're forgiven." Hermione tossed her hair back and leveled her wand at Oliver. "Now, then," she began as Oliver cautiously approached. "You, Anti-Spider Boy, are going to be destroyed, for numerous reasons, most of which I forgot by the time we got here, but most recently for killing The Immortal and—OUCH!"

Hermione didn't get to finish. Draco had been grinning happily down at Harry's unconscious form and hadn't noticed Oliver come around to Draco's side and raise the broomstick. Draco had also crumpled, and his descent to the floor had yanked painfully on Hermione's wrist. Before she could regain her balance, Oliver had raised the broom once again. One more swing, and the once-crazed wannabe superheroes were nothing more than shallowly-breathing piles on his sitting room floor.

"Well," came Luna's dreamy voice from the doorway. Oliver jumped and raised his broom instinctively. "I'm glad that's over, then. It was getting a little dull." With that, Luna turned and drifted away.

Oliver returned to staring down at the three hexed students on his rug, an odd sense of closure stealing over him. Then he held his hand out to Neville. "Give me your wand."

Neville mutely handed it over, staring down at the fallen heroes in a sort of numb shock. Oliver swished Neville's wand through the air and Harry, Hermione and Draco rose gently up until they were floating eerily at shoulder height. Oliver directed them out into the hallway, then handed the wand back to Neville. "There. Enchantment should last long enough to get them to the hospital wing. Give Madam Pomfrey a full report and then go ask Professor McGonagall to de-transfigure your clothing."

Neville nodded and left. Oliver smiled to himself and flicked his wand, filling his room with the blaring hard rock music of Fenrir's Offspring.

"Finally," he breathed. "Peace and quiet."


	45. Stuck

**Chapter Forty-four**

_Stuck_

Hermione groaned as she was dragged back to consciousness. The sound of laughter filled her ears and she struggled to figure out why. The last thing she remembered was going down to breakfast on Saturday morning, being high on the thrills of bitch-slapping Ron…

She slid her eyes open and yelped. Draco was lying not three feet away from her, sleeping peacefully, smiling slightly around the thumb in his mouth. The laughter in the background paused at her startled cry, then started back up again, louder now. Great. She was probably caught in the middle of yet another prank…

No. She was in the hospital wing. Someone had pushed her and Draco's cots together, probably because of the chain, and the railings had been raised on the other side of his cot; she reached behind her and felt another railing behind her. Odd. Madam Pomfrey usually only put the railings up when the patient using the cot was having fits or seizures of some kind.

Hermione pushed herself up on one elbow and started to call out to whomever was laughing behind her, but the sight of Draco's attire stopped her dead. He was wearing a black sweater, gray slacks, mismatched socks, a green cape and a fluffy pink tutu.

Hermione looked down at herself, startled to see her own bizarre outfit. "What the…?"

"Hey, Hermione," said a weary voice behind her.

"Neville? For crying out loud, who is that laughing?"

"That would be Harry. You all got hit with a Euphoria Charm yesterday."

"A Euphoria Charm? But those are so difficult to do, not to mention highly illegal… is that why Harry's laughing?"

"Nope," Neville said. "He's laughing because I'm trying to tell him what all you lot did while under the effects of the Euphoria Charm."

Hermione groaned. "Tell me there weren't witnesses."

Neville cleared his throat, but before he could reply, Draco suddenly let out a mad cackle in his sleep and started spasming like mad. "Malfoy! Malfoy!" Hermione called anxiously, trying to wake him. "Neville, what's _wrong_ with him?"

"Oh, he does that a lot. You all did." Neville came around to Draco's side of the bed so that he could face her. Shortly after he stopped, a few feet back from the railing, Draco's fit subsided and he lay still. A moment later he curled up and stuck his thumb back in his mouth.

Hermione exhaled slowly, relaxing. "Well, that was… wait. Yesterday?"

"Huh?" Neville asked blankly.

"You said we got hit with a Euphoria Charm yesterday," Hermione reminded him.

Neville nodded apologetically. "It's Sunday afternoon."

"Sunday afternoon? We've missed almost the entire Hogsmeade weekend," she complained, sighing.

"I imagine you'll miss the rest of today, too. Obviously you can't go anywhere until Malfoy isn't under the influence anymore."

She heard the sounds of bare feet hitting the floor and a moment later Harry came round to stand beside Neville. "Hmm. Malfoy in a tutu. Did someone already take pictures, or should I go try to find a camera?"

"Colin was here. And a half-dozen other people," Neville told him. "I hear you can contact Dennis Creevey to order prints."

Hermione groaned. "I don't suppose they left us alone, did they?" she asked, pointing to herself and Harry.

Neville shook his head. "Sorry. A lot of Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors aren't too happy with you after that thing in the entrance hall." Hermione blanched. "Oh, I don't think they're really angry," Neville assured her hastily. "A few of them, maybe, but… most understand. They're just… not looking to do you any favors, is all." As if recalling a particularly unpleasant memory, he shuddered.

She sighed. "Who all did we alienate, Neville?"

"Well, um… let's see. The Patil twins, Lavender, Dean, Seamus… Michael, Terry, Anthony… Ernie… Hannah, Justin… the Hufflepuff Quidditch team…"

"The entire _team?"_ she repeated incredulously.

Neville nodded. "As far as I know, but I'm not familiar with their reserve players…"

Harry chuckled. "Well. Now that we've made enemies out of all four houses, we might as well up and drop out of school, eh? Go our own way? Start a little detective agency or something. I'll put up the starter loan—"

"We are _not_ dropping out of school, Harry," Hermione said severely. She sighed again. "I… has anyone brought me spare clothes or anything?"

Neville nodded. "Ginny took care of it. She feels slightly guilty, skiving off and everything, but she was just a tad worn out, is all. Everybody's cracking up, really. You should have heard poor Wood ranting about insanity."

"Wood?" Hermione repeated. "Oh, dear. Tell me we didn't upset him too much."

"Come to think of it, no," Neville said. "He's the one who knocked you lot unconscious. With his broomstick."

"He knocked us unconscious?" Harry asked, sounding mildly affronted. "What did we do to him, then?"

"You tried to assassinate him," Neville told them conversationally, rummaging through a pile of clothes and books on a nearby chair.

"Oh. Well, then I guess we'll have to forgive him," Harry joked, reaching up to check his head for lumps, fingers automatically going first to his inactive scar and then over the rest of his skull.

"Why are you in such a good mood?" Hermione asked him, rubbing the invisible chain idly.

Harry shrugged. "It's all kind of funny, really. At least, so far. Neville still hasn't told me how Malfoy got in the tutu."

"Well, after you lot decided you wanted to form a club of world-saving superheroes and ran out of the entrance hall—"

"_What?"_ Hermione interrupted.

Neville smiled sympathetically at her and handed her copies of _Hogwarts: A History, The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Seven, _and _An Advanced Guide to Transfiguration._ "Don't worry, Hermione. Ginny managed to mend the scarves you cut up and she even mended your books."

Hermione's eyes widened in horror and fury. "Who damaged my books?" she demanded.

"You did," Neville replied. "Well, one of you three. You taped them to your cape and stuff."

"My cape," Hermione repeated, cradling the books to her chest. "My cape. Yes. Right. Of _course_ I had a cape. Why not?"

Harry shook his head. "That's how I felt for the first few minutes. Wait until he gets to the part where we were running around yelling 'Whee.'"

"I like that part," Neville admitted. "That was before you put me in a loincloth." Seeing the startled look on Harry and Hermione's faces, he laughed nervously. "Well then, let me explain. First of all, Ginny's fairly certain Fred and George hit you with those charms before they left school. Ron had an alibi—in the common room the whole time—but—"

"We don't need to talk it over; it's not hard to figure out," Hermione interrupted. "Go on."

"Well, the charms made you pretty much insane until Wood knocked you out and I brought you up here. The antidote had to be special ordered—Snape's run off again—so you're lucky Dumbledore managed to get some so soon—"

"Lucky. Right. _That's_ what we are," Harry drawled.

"Madam Pomfrey says everyone's different, so Malfoy could still be out a while," Neville said.

"Well, that's something," Hermione said, feeling a large weight lift from her shoulders. Nothing like an unconscious Malfoy to cheer a person up.

Neville released the rail on the edge of her bed and he and Harry sat down on the corners of her cot while Neville explained the whole thing. By the time Neville finished, Ginny had arrived with dinner for them all, and she apologized profusely for not stepping up, but neither Harry nor Hermione faulted her for not wanting to cope. Draco continued to spasm periodically but didn't awaken, so the only annoyance he created was when his flailing limbs yanked Hermione's arm about painfully. Ginny drew the curtains around the cot and kept watch over Draco while Hermione changed, and once she was clothed in comfortable attire and full of the best food Ginny could procure and certain that her books had suffered no lasting damage, Hermione joined Harry in laughing cheerfully about the entire psychotic event. The more Neville described, the more they remembered of their own volition, until most of the details of the event were sketchily outlined in their own memories. Madam Pomfrey came in to check on them shortly after they ate, shoveling some more of the antidote potion down Draco's throat and muttering irritably about how she should have taken up a nice, safe, hassle-free profession, like dragon taming.

Around eight o'clock, the chain jerked again on Hermione's wrist and she turned to make sure Draco's flailing wouldn't harm her. She found Draco sitting up instead, peering blearily around at them all.

"Bloody Gryffindors," he grumbled. "Why the hell am I in the hospital wing, and how in god's name did you get me in a tutu?"

* * *

Madam Pomfrey released them all the moment she saw Draco awake and past the effects of the Euphoria Charm. Ginny had "forgotten" to bring Draco a change of clothes, but he was a tad too weary and irritated to bother being upset with her or with the large numbers of laughing Gryffindors in the common room. Harry, Hermione and Ginny said goodbye to Neville in the common room and accompanied Malfoy through the wall and into the relative safety of the guestroom.

"I think I'll stay with you lot tonight," Ginny said. "Everyone's been asking me all sorts of questions, and I think some of them suspect that I ditched the party last night."

"What party?" Draco asked.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "The one where we tried to save you three from yourselves. Do you remember anything yet?"

He shrugged uncomfortably. "Bits and pieces. Telling Granger I didn't want to be Captain Hook, congratulating Wood for killing Potter…" He shook his head. "It's all kind of a blur. The way stuff you did while drunk starts coming back to you during the hangover."

"Well, we've managed to alienate some of our strongest allies," Harry said thoughtfully. "Including most of the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students in our year and the Hufflepuff Quidditch team… I suppose we should work on some way to get back on their good sides again before Ron can manage it. If he poisons them completely against us… well, we can't fight the Slytherins, Ron, _and_ the rest of the school, too. At best we can count on _maybe_ Neville's support… and Snape's." Harry frowned. "Wow. And here I thought our lives would get _less_ weird once we killed Voldemort."

"Let's not think about it tonight," Hermione said wearily. "No one can get into this room but the four of us and anyway the train will be here tomorrow to take us away for the holidays."

"Oh, god," Draco groaned. "My mum's going to treat you like you're a _friend_ of mine. And the guys will want to come over… what will I tell them?"

"I'm not looking forward to it either, but it's probably a lot better than running around here with everyone staring at us and plotting against us," Hermione said. "Besides, I imagine attitudes will cool down over the holidays…"

"Or heat up, once everyone's had a little time to plan and hit the joke shops in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade," Harry finished dryly.

"Regardless, let's just pack up our things and get some sleep, okay?"

Harry, Ginny and even Draco muttered their agreement. The effects of the Euphoria Charm left Harry, Hermione and Draco feeling rather odd—their energy levels began spiking, so that one minute they were wide-awake and the next they were practically zombies. Ginny went and collected her things from her bedroom and they all prepared for tomorrow's train ride. Harry, Hermione and Draco fell on the bed without complaint for once while Ginny curled up in one of the armchairs, and they all managed to get a good night's rest for the first time in quite a while.

Harry, Hermione and Draco awoke to Ginny frantically shouting for them to awaken, but the Euphoria Charm's aftereffects were still making them all groggy and they continued to doze. Finally Harry managed to open an eye and peek at his watch.

"Oh, my god!" he shouted, sitting bolt upright. "We've got twenty minutes until the train leaves!"

"What?" Draco hissed, jerking awake and pushing Hermione away from him.

"That's what I've been _trying_ to tell you," Ginny exclaimed. "I woke you guys up before I went down to breakfast, or at least I thought I did, and when I got back…"

Draco tried to scramble out of the bed, forgetting the chain and nearly dislocating his shoulder. "Wake her up," he snapped at Harry. "I will _not_ miss the train on account of her."

"Shut up, Malfoy; I'm trying," Harry snarled, shaking her shoulder. "Hermione. Hermione, come on!"

"Listen," Ginny said, "I really don't want to be late, and you know what it's like to find a compartment—"

"No, go ahead," Harry told her. "Save us seats, will you?"

Ginny nodded. "Hurry," she said, and darted out of the hall.

"Hermione? Herm, wake up! HERMIONE!"

"Granger, get up!" Draco shouted, yanking hard on the chain.

Hermione yelped as pain lanced through her arm. "What's your problem?" she demanded, rolling onto her side and cradling her arm.

"My problem is we're about to miss the train!"

"What?" Hermione sat up and stared at the clock in alarm. "Oh, my god!"

The three of them dove as one for the piles of Muggle clothing and robes they'd laid out the night before and then rushed for the bathroom. Hermione leaped into the shower and pulled the curtain closed.

"We don't have time for another one of your showers," Draco said.

"I'm not showering; I'm changing. We don't have time for Harry to hold you at wand-point," she retorted, already ripping her shirt and robes apart with spells.

"Can you do that spell to brush my teeth?" Harry called through the curtain as he jumped into his jeans. Hermione's wand poked out between the curtain and a jet of orange light hit him in the mouth. "Thanks," he said, yanking a comb through his hair—just because it never lay flat was no excuse to give up on it—and then rushing out of the bathroom. Draco finished dressing and considered asking Hermione to perform the same spell, but his pride won out and he went to the sink himself, scrubbing irritably at his teeth with one hand while brushing his hair with the other. Hermione leaped out of the shower fully-clothed and groaned at the sight of her hair in the mirror; it was worse than usual.

"For crying out loud," she groaned, attacking it with her hairbrush. "I ought to just shave my head."

Draco spat out a mouthful of toothpaste and grinned at her hopelessly tangled hair. "I'd tell you not to bother with the brush, but if you leave the room looking like that, you're liable to scare the first-years."

Hermione, to his surprise, merely chuckled. "You sound like Parvati. She doesn't seem to get that we can't all be as exotically beautiful as her."

Draco snorted. "If you ask me, the Patil twins aren't half as pretty as they _think_ they are," he said darkly, remembering with a pang of anger how Padma Patil had turned down his invitation to go to the Yule Ball—citing her sister being in Gryffindor as a reason—and ended up going with that clod Weasley.

"They have gorgeous hair," she said, her tone distracted and a little wistful.

Draco blinked, startled to realize he and Hermione were actually having a civil conversation. Deciding to chalk it up to the Euphoria Charm's aftereffects, he said, "Well, not if you're standing behind them. They have this horrible habit of tossing their hair. I got hit by Parvati's hair once. Full in the face. Felt like I'd stood a little too close to the back end of a horse."

Hermione burst out laughing. "Oh, that's priceless," she breathed. "They do that all the time, too—they think it's so _pretty."_

Draco could help but feel a surge of pride and pleasure, the same way he always did whenever someone reacted well to one of his stories. "It's not pretty when it's slapping you in the eyes," he replied. "And you know what? It smells kind of funny. Like eggs."

"It's all those products they use to keep it healthy," Hermione explained. "Parvati used to try and get me to use some of them."

"Your hair smells _way_ better," Draco told her emphatically. "And I've never seen you try to use it as a weapon."

Hermione laughed again, and Draco grinned at her. Harry poked his head into the bathroom and gave them a suspicious look. "What are you doing?" he asked, confused.

"Nothing, Harry."

"Mind your own business, Potter," Draco snapped, his good mood evaporating. "Waiting on Granger to finish her hair."

Hermione sighed and put her brush down. "Come on," she muttered. "Let's just… I'll wear a hat."

Harry stepped back to let them out of the bathroom. "Listen, um… we're _really_ running out of time, and I'm already packed…"

"We'll hurry, don't worry," Hermione said. "Go ahead. Malfoy isn't stupid enough to pick a fight with me when we might risk missing the train. Crookshanks, come!" Hermione's cat leaped down from its perch on the desk and padded over to her, reluctantly allowing her to stuff him in his carrying basket.

Harry nodded. "I'll try and stall them. Hurry." Harry grabbed Hedwig's cage and his trunk and rushed out the door.

Draco groaned. "Oh, great. I completely forgot we're on the seventh floor. How the hell do you people manage to come up and down here all day without collapsing from exhaustion?"

"Practice," Hermione muttered as she began outfitting herself with scarves, gloves and other cold-weather gear. "That's why the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws tend to be leaner than the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins. Be thankful we're not up in my dormitory; my year is on the top floor."

Draco grimaced and shoved a few more items into his trunk. "Huge castle like this and most of it isn't being used for anything—you'd think they'd put everyone lower to the ground."

"The castle wasn't always empty," she said. "And the spells on the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw rooms have stood for thousands of years. And we'd have to come up here anyway for astronomy—"

"Oh, for crying out loud," Draco groaned as he pulled the hood of his cloak carefully up over his hair. "You're not the _only_ one who's read _Hogwarts, A History,_ you know."

She stared at him in pure, undiluted shock. "You've read it, too?"

He nodded, rolling his eyes. "I may not have memorized the damned thing, but anyone with half a brain reads that book before they get here and keeps a copy lying around. How else are you supposed to know anything about the secrets in this place?"

Her shock increased to near-comical proportions. "I've been trying to get Harry and Ron to read it since first year."

He shrugged. "I did say anyone with 'half a brain,' didn't I?"

He expected her to take offense, but she just chuckled and seized the handle of her trunk in one hand, Crookshanks's basket in the other. "Hang on—where's your owl?" she asked.

He scowled. "Dead, probably. I was sending my father a letter with him when the Death Eaters broke out of Azkaban, summer after fifth year. I never saw him again."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said quietly, looking down at Crookshanks's basket.

Draco ignored her. "Can we get going, please?"

Hermione nodded and led the way out of the guestroom, into the empty common room. "Oh, forget this," she muttered, dropping her heavy trunk. Students were discouraged from bewitching their trunks to follow them down to the train platform—primarily because it was a spell not everyone could manage, and hundreds of heavy trunks floating around in a throng of pushing, shoving students could get downright deadly—but as they were undoubtedly some of the last students left in the castle, there wasn't much point. Hermione, however, knew more than enough spells to get their trunks down to the entrance hall without carrying them, and speed was of the essence. She jabbed her wand at their trunks and Crookshanks's basket, and all three pieces of luggage went flying out of the common room, knocking the Fat Lady's portrait out of the way as they went.

"McGonagall will have a fit if she catches you," Draco said even as he hurried to follow Hermione through the portrait hole.

Hermione shrugged. "We'll never make it in time if we don't run, and I can't run with that stupid trunk," she said as she slammed the portrait behind them, ignoring the Fat Lady's indignant protests. She and Draco began to jog through the castle.

Draco shook his head. "Typical."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" Hermione asked dangerously as she darted into a secret passage without warning, forcing Draco to skid to a halt and follow her before his arm jerked.

"It _means_ that you always act like you never do anything wrong, but you break rules _all the time._ Even when you aren't running around saving the school. Just like that bit with the damned dragon in first year, and—"

"Oh, shut up," Hermione said with a sniff. "I do _not_ act like I don't break the rules. I break the rules when I have to. I do not, however, think it's intelligent to risk getting expelled just to have a bit of fun. I can have plenty of fun without risking my magical career doing it."

Draco rolled his eyes. "For a Gryffindor, you sure worry about consequences too much."

"Of course I do," she snapped. "Do you have any idea what would happen to me if I got expelled, huh? Your father might have been killed supporting Voldemort, but from what I understand, your mother's managed to save the majority of her reputation, and you've got dozens of Ministry contacts, to say nothing of what advantages your bloodline gives you elsewhere. I am Muggle-born. I'll have no connections in the outside world besides those I make here, and being Harry's friend, much as I love him, is a tad time-consuming. Why do you think I try so damned hard? I can't rely on the family fortune and having a cousin in position to get me a job! If I lose magic, if they snap my wand in half, I won't have any opportunity to succeed in the Muggle world, either. Even if I could fake having an education, I haven't been to high school. I don't know advanced math and advanced literature and advanced physics! I couldn't keep up with Muggle schooling and magic, too, not with all the intrigues and the war on top of everything else. You will have a mansion and a name that holds weight in the wizarding world. I'll be an expelled student with nowhere to go, like Hagrid. Or Pince, who dropped out in her fifth year when she got pregnant. Or Filch, who's a squib. The best I could hope for would be working behind the counter at Fred and George's joke shop or serving ale with Madam Rosmerta."

"Whatever," Draco muttered, but he found her words distinctly unsettling. He had never really worried about getting kicked out of school. The Malfoy name had always carried too much weight for that, until the war last year, which had been too tense and depressing for him to risk drawing attention to himself. Now that he thought about it, though, he wasn't sure his mother would lobby to keep him in the school the same way his father would have. She was not as concerned with appearances as he had been, and Lucius's death had put a considerable strain on their finances. They were still wealthy, to be sure, but their assets had been frozen temporarily at the end of his fifth year, and they had been forced to pay certain fines and reparations. His mother had started getting a lot more careful about their spending, even going so far as to sell some of their possessions.

They burst out of the secret passage and Draco was startled to realize he had absolutely no idea where they were. Hermione, however, turned left and started jogging purposefully. "How do you know about all of these passages?" he asked.

"Harry's map shows the entire school," she told him, darting behind a painting. "This one leads to the third-floor corridor that was out-of-bounds in our first year."

"Are you sure it isn't _still_ out of bounds?" Draco asked nervously. "I seem to remember something about 'most painful death.'"

"That was when Fluffy lived there."

"Fluffy? Giant three-headed dog, Fluffy? What the hell was it doing _in the castle?"_

"Guarding the Sorcerer's Stone," Hermione replied coolly. "Was doing a damned fine job of it, too, until Quirrell figured out that playing music puts him right to sleep. Bewitched a harp to keep playing until he'd snuck past Fluffy. Thankfully Harry had gotten a flute that Christmas."

"Look," Draco said, feeling a strong sense of curiosity, "I'm not saying that it was a bad thing, you saving the school from the psychotic professor who wanted to bring the Dark Lord back to life, but what in _god's_ name possessed you lot to go up against a three-headed dog with nothing but a flute?"

Hermione shot him a startled look, surprised that he at his interest and apparent lack of condemnation, but she tried to take it in stride. "Someone had to do it," she said with a shrug. "Besides, Fluffy, as it turned out, was one of the simplest challenges involved."

"You didn't know that at the time."

"No, but we didn't exactly think it would be easy," she replied. "We knew that Quirrell—or rather, Snape, whom we thought was the culprit at the time—was a full-grown, fully-qualified wizard. We were three eleven-year-old kids."

"What all went on down there?" Draco asked curiously.

"Why do you care?" she asked, frowning.

He shrugged and tried to look less interested than he was. "There were all sorts of rumors about it, but no one knew the full story. Rumor had it there was a troll and a puzzle that would poison anyone who messed it up."

"Technically, it only had three doses of poison for whoever messed it up," she said. "Two were wine. One bottle let you move forward, one bottle let you move backward. You had to drink something, or else be trapped in the room indefinitely."

"I'm surprised Potter figured it out."

"He didn't. I did." She shot a glance at Draco to gauge his reaction as they climbed out of a hole in the third-floor corridor, hidden by a large portrait of a dungeon. She couldn't be sure, but she thought that for just a moment he'd looked a tad… impressed. Watching him closely out of the corner of her eye as they resumed jogging, she added, "I also figured out how to get us out of the Devil's Snare."

"_Devil's Snare?"_

"Mm-hmm. It was waiting at the bottom of the trapdoor beneath Fluffy. By the time I came down, it had already started strangling Harry and Ron." She smiled as they leaped over the same trapdoor she and Harry and Ron had jumped through in their first year. "I almost panicked before I remembered that—_alohomora!"_ Hermione interrupted herself, pointing her wand at a large wooden door in their path. She reached for the handle and yanked. And yanked. And yanked some more.

"What the…?" she muttered, and pointed her wand at the door again. _"Alohomora!"_ She tugged at the handle again, but it refused to give.

"Come on, Granger," Draco drawled. "You should have mastered that spell in second year."

"I mastered it two weeks after my first trip to Diagon Alley," she snapped. She tried it a few more times, then tried another spell, and another. The door refused to budge.

"Would you give it up already?" Draco said impatiently. "We'll have to go around."

"There _is_ no going around," Hermione snapped. "Other than the passage we came through, the only way out of this corridor is through that trapdoor."

Draco glanced down at it. "Where does it lead?"

"The last time I took it? To a big patch of Devil's Snare." She sighed and spun around. "We'll have to go back up to the fifth floor and—"

"That'll take forever!"

"Have you got a better plan?"

Grumbling, Draco turned to follow her back to the passage's entrance. They were still a good twenty feet away from the portrait when Hermione stopped, frowning. "What _now?"_ Draco demanded in irritation.

"The portrait. It's _empty."_

"So?" Realization hit him a moment later. "Oh, _great._ Good going, Granger. Led us to a locked door and the guy we're supposed to give a password to has wondered off."

"He can't have!" Hermione exclaimed, peering frantically at each corner of the painting.

"Well, he did."

"Malfoy, it's a _dungeon_ painting, you prat! The guy in it was chained to the wall, see? His chains are missing. One of the other portraits cut him out. My god, Cyrus Skullovitch is loose in the castle!"

"Cyrus Skullovitch? _The_ Cyrus Skullovitch? Wizard _serial killer_ Cyrus Skullovitch?"

"That's who the portrait was of," Hermione confirmed. "That's why the picture has him chained up here."

"Great. So he's probably off killing a half-dozen other portraits. Who would do something that stupid?"

"I don't know. Peeves, maybe, but he isn't a portrait, so he can only maim canvas."

"Or," came Peeves's voice from directly overhead, "he can persuade one of the _other_ portraits to rescue poor, poor Cyrus, chained up in a dungeon." Peeves cackled as they looked up. "Double, double, toil and trouble, Peevesie's got you trapped in a bubble!"

"You unleashed Cyrus?" Hermione demanded.

"I? I would never do something that foolish! Of course, I might have mentioned it to Cadogan how poor misunderstood Cyrus's been chained up for centuries! They were right—he went rushing off to free Cyrus, babbling about noble quests!"

"Who were right?" Draco asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" Hermione asked, eyes narrowing. "The Weasley twins."

Peeves cackled and blew a raspberry at them before zooming out through the wall. Hermione glowered after him and stomped over to the door. She knelt down and peered into the lock. "Jammed," she reported. "Something's been stuffed in the keyhole."

"Then get it out! We're missing the train!"

"Exactly," Hermione said grimly. "Just as Fred and George intended us to." She pulled out her wand and brandished it at the lock. _"Waddiwasi!"_ she shouted, and the soft ball of gunk flew from the keyhole and landed on the floor. _"Alohomora!"_

"Hurry up!"

Hermione reached for the handle… and discovered it hadn't budged. She frowned and peered into the keyhole again—and discovered the gunk was back. "What—?"

"_Alohomora!"_ Draco shouted, pointing his wand at the door. He leaned over Hermione to tug at the handle again, to no avail. "Damn it, Granger! Move over!"

Hermione did, frowning thoughtfully. As Draco attempted to remove the ball of gunk and unlock the door again, Hermione bent down and picked up the first bit from the keyhole.

"It keeps coming back!" Draco growled, kicking the door in frustration. "What is this rubbish?"

"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," Hermione said miserably. "It's a double-fire spitball. Basic refilling charm that lasts for _ages,_ meaning you can spit dozens of—"

"You mean to tell me those rat bastards had Peeves stick some sort of refillable spitball in our only exit and set a serial killer loose in the freaking castle portraits just to make us miss the train?" Draco demanded, his voice rising furiously.

"Or worse," Hermione said with a sigh, leaning against the wall and closing her eyes. "Theoretically we could be here for ages without anyone ever finding us. There's nothing in this corridor to give anyone a reason to come here. We'll have to wait for a ghost or—"

A deafening roar sounded, followed by a loud splintering noise. Hermione's eyes snapped open to see Draco, standing in front of the shattered door with his wand raised, his expression black, bits of wood clinging to his hair and clothing. The door had been completely decimated, and, before the dust had finished settling, Draco started forward, tugging impatiently on the chain.

"That's destruction of school property," Hermione said, shocked but, if she was being honest with herself, slightly impressed. She had never seen Draco do such a strong bit of magic before. She knew he couldn't be all thumbs, to have been made a prefect—as Deputy Headmistress, McGonagall had to approve all choices, so Snape's favoritism wasn't enough to earn Draco a badge. Watching him cut loose, especially in such a destructive manner, was a sight to see… and though she hated to admit it, it would have taken her quite a while to come up with the idea to blow up the door.

"No one uses that corridor anyway," Draco muttered, running faster now, fast enough that Hermione had to struggle to keep up. "It's not like this place hasn't seen its fair share of damage. I'll repair it when we get back if it's still there. Provided you don't rat me out to Dumbledore first."

"I won't have time," Hermione said crossly. "What kind of charm did you use?"

He smirked at her. "Can't blow up a door on your own, can you?"

"I could have done it a number of ways, if I'd thought it up," she retorted. "I was just wondering which incantation you used."

"Yes, well, I doubt _you_ could have managed it anyway," he replied, grinning viciously at her.

"Oh, please. Your side lost, remember?" she snapped.

"Shut up," he hissed, no longer smiling.

Hermione did so, if only because she was running out of breath from exertion. She wasn't much of a sprinter, let alone a distance runner, and it appeared Draco was. Not that it surprised her. He probably had a lot of practice running away from things.

They didn't slow down until they reached the marble staircase, at which point Hermione skidded to a halt and Draco nearly fell. He rounded angrily on her and stopped at the horrified look on her face. "Our stuff," she gasped. "It should be right here."

"It must be on the train already," Draco said, cursing. He rushed down the stairs, half-dragging Hermione behind him, and out onto the lawn. "Oh, no!" he wailed. "The carriages are gone!"

"We'll never make it in time now," she groaned.

"My trunk. My broomstick! My _trunk!_ This is all _your_ fault!"

She gaped up at him. _"My_ fault?"

"You had to brush your hair and take your stupid shortcuts and you've sent our luggage to a train we're not on! We'll never catch it without my broomstick!"

"It wasn't my fault Peeves trapped us in there!"

"You're the one who pissed off the Weasley twins!"

"You're the one who started this whole mess!"

"You were asking for it! You stupid bloody Gryffindors with your stupid…"

Hermione ignored him and stalked off down the trail. "Are you coming or not?" she demanded of Draco. "We've got to get on that train. No way am I spending the holidays alone here with you."

Draco refused to move, folding his arms across his chest. "Don't be stupid. If we miss the train we can take the Floo."

"How, exactly, are two people chained to each other going to Floo?"

Draco cursed again and muttered a phrase in what sounded like Latin. "The bus. The Knight Bus."

"Where's your money?"

Draco snorted contemptuously. "I'm not paying for you, Granger."

"Well, if you want to take the bus, you're going to have to. My money is in my trunk."

"So? I'll…" Draco broke off with a curse. "My money's on the train, too. Damn it, Granger!"

"This isn't my _fault,_ Malfoy. It's Fred and George and Peeves's."

"I'm aware of that," he snapped. "We're stranded here, no money, no brooms…"

"We'll go down to Hogsmeade and Apparate," Hermione said. "I'm sure that if we—"

"I failed my test," Draco muttered, avoiding her gaze. "I don't get to try again until March."

Hermione made a frustrated noise. "I'll take you Side-Along Apparition."

He snorted again. "Even if I _did_ trust you not to 'accidentally' splinch me, you don't know where we're going. You've never been to my house before and it's probably too far away for you to manage it anyway."

"I'll take us to the Order. London isn't _that_ far away."

Draco shook his head; he didn't fail to miss the worry in her voice. "I don't think so. Besides, we're staying at _my_ house until Christmas, remember?"

"We can go there and… and…" Hermione broke off with a sigh. "And I won't be able to take you in without clearance, and I don't have it, because we're not due there for another couple of days."

"I'm not letting you Apparate me anyway," Draco pointed out.

"We'll… we'll get a portkey…" Hermione floundered for something, anything to get them out of Hogwarts.

"We'll never get clearance for one anytime soon, especially not around the holidays," Draco said with a sigh. "As if it wasn't bad enough to be stuck _to_ you, now I have to be stuck _here_, _alone_ with you."

* * *

_Author's Notes:_ No, I'm not dead. I'm simply struggling to work on this. My interest in HP has waned and life has a funny habit of trying to kill me. I fully intend to finish this story… someday; it's taking far longer than I ever imagined it could. But I won't abandon it; I swear. Thank you to everyone who's been with me thus far, and thank you to anyone who plans to stay. I'll try to keep this story alive and entertaining—and maybe now that I've just stranded Draco and Hermione alone together temporarily, maybe I'll finally be able to manage it.


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